


Vesture

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: Strange Hearts & Wild Things [6]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Cultural Differences, Cultural Misunderstandings, Enthusiastic Consent, Exploratory Makeouts, Exploring Cultural Norms Through Makeouts, Fluff, Fondling, Humor, Partial Nudity, Romance, Smutty Makeouts, Third Base Makeouts, butterfly bog, third base
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4089898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog doesn’t really understand clothing. Marianne attempts to help. </p><p>Part 6 of my "Strange Hearts & Wild Things" series!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She honestly should have suspected it, with that day when she had gotten a face full of mud by one of the goblins being her first clue. 

They had been told to work on clearing some old logs and rubble some storms had washed in away from the floor of the Forest while Bog attended to business elsewhere. She had volunteered her services to supervise them, and had regally accepted Bog’s kiss of thanks before settling back for what she had thought would be a fairly relaxed afternoon of helping and ordering goblins around.

At least, that had been the plan. But Marianne was finding more and more that goblins and planning simply did not mix.

The organized chaos of clearing the muddy mess had descended into an all out battle, huge sloppy balls of mud being hurled by each side. After a few paltry attempts to get the goblins back to work, Marianne had eagerly joined in, darting and diving, flying up above the writhing mass of creatures with either Stuff or Thang in her grasp and having them release acorn caps full of mud onto the unsuspecting masses below. It had been rampantly filthy chaos, and she had been laughing her head off, exhilarated beyond words, when Brutus had aimed too high and nailed her smack in the face with a particularly vicious mud ball, knocking her back against a tree trunk.

To the goblins credit, they had immediately stopped and rushed to her, horrified over the possibility that they had injured their Future Queen (she still couldn’t get them to stop calling her that). Marianne had shrugged them off with assurances that she was fine, seriously, it took more then this to hurt her,  _there’s no need to cry Thang, I won’t let Bog get angry about this_ , before making her way to the little stream she knew ran through the Forest.

Settling down on the bank, she dipped her hands into the water, more swollen after all the rain, and washed her face, arms and neck, the muck sluicing off her skin. It felt remarkably refreshing after the energy and rush of the fight. She cupped some of the water, clear and cold, and drank, swishing the water around in her mouth and spitting out the grit there. She ran wet fingers through her hair, closing her eyes at the cool slide of them against her hot scalp, her sigh one of both pleasure and fatigue. Goblins could be exhausting; no wonder Bog could get so cranky after dealing with them…

Smoothing her bangs away, she gave herself a cursory glance in the surface of the stream, her reflection rippling but still visible. All the mud was gone; her complexion was glowing from the exercise and the cool water, her hair mussed and damp, and her eyes…

Marianne gave a little groan. All her makeup was gone, dammit.

It wasn’t a big deal, but…she couldn’t help it, she was attached to it. What’s more, she didn’t have any berry juice here that she could use. Most of the berries in the Dark Forest were poisonous, and she didn’t want to run the risk of blinding herself for the sake of vanity…

Sighing to herself, she suddenly heard the tell tale buzz of Bog’s wings behind her and grinned. “Back so soon?”

“It wasn’t a pressing matter.” He landed next her, and his reflection in the water cocked its head at her curiously. “I thought fairies avoided water.”

“As long as it stays away from our wings, we like it just fine. Your subjects wore me out, I needed a breather.”  She rose and flicked her fingers at him, drops spattering him, and he flinched back. “Do goblins avoid water, your majesty?”

“My wings aren’t bothered by it as yours are, but that doesn’t mean you get to do that, Tough Girl.”

She was tempted to splash him after that just to see his reaction, but settled for wrapping her arms around his neck, and he readily tugged her into a kiss. She sighed happily, and felt him smile against her mouth. She gently broke away to snuggle her head under his chin – it still got to her sometimes, that they could do stuff like this so  _easily_ , all the casual and unforced intimacy she had never dared to want before him…

“My subjects exhausted you so much?” Bog murmured against the crown of her head, claws stroking down between her wings gently, and Marianne had to hold back at purr at that.

“You know how they get. Lots of enthusiasm, just not for work. I didn’t really help, to be honest.”

Bog let out a snort at that. “How am I not surprised?”

Marianne couldn’t help but grin. “You know, here my Dad is all worried about them being a negative influence on me, when honestly, I’m just as bad.” She really  _did_  belong here, didn’t she? Mixed up with chaos and goblins and wildness and him…

She leaned back to smile at him before making her way back to where the goblins were, tugging at his hand. “C’mon, let’s go see the damage.”

As they walked, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was looking at her strangely, eyeing her face with a slight frown. Not angry, just…puzzled.  _Huh._

She briefly wondered what that was about, but the panicked yells of the goblins when they saw their King had made an early return and Bog’s bellow of “YOU IMBECILES MADE IT  _WORSE!”_  made Marianne quickly decide that now was as a good time as any to find a quiet place back at the castle and grab a nap, and was thus distracted from any further contemplation.  

* * *

Marianne raised an eyebrow at her sister. “Care to tell me what this is all about?”

Dawn pressed the little package, carefully wrapped in leaves, into Marianne’s hands. “It’s just that you’ve been spending so much time over at the Dark Forest, and I thought that, you know, this might be helpful! In case you needed to change clothes, or take a bath, or whatever - it never hurts to be prepared, that’s all I’m saying!”

Marianne peeled back the edge of the wrapping and couldn’t help but let a chuckle. Dawn had stuffed what seemed to be an entire wardrobe and toiletry set into it. “I don’t know if they really have baths there, honestly –"

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me,” Dawn replied, her nose crinkling – she was beginning to adore the goblins just as much as Marianne did, but she still had some issues with the far different standards of cleanliness the inhabitants of the Dark Forest held themselves to.  

Marianne chuckled once more and continued to rifle through the contents. Her fingers brushed against a soft little slip of something, and she tugged it into view. Her brows arched in surprise. “Uh…that’s a nightgown.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah, you spend the night there all the time, don’t you?”

Marianne rolled her eyes back at her. “Yeah, I do, I just never really needed one –"

Dawn cocked her head, the blue of her eyes open and curious. “You don’t have one over there already? What do you do, sleep in your clothes?”

Marianne shrugged, stuffing the slip back into the package. “Well, not in my boots and my braces, but yeah, why not? They’re plenty comfortable, and it’s not like I’m going to any more sleep in a nightgown then I usually do sleeping with Bog.”

Dawn stared at her, eyes wide. “You’ve been…sleeping with Bog?”

Marianne nodded, and then almost immediately realized how that could have been taken. “ _Oh my god,_  Dawn _, no!_  No no no, not like  _that!_  I mean – oh god, I mean  _literally_  sleeping, we just, we share his bed when I spend the night! That’s all, it’s just very literal sleeping together, not – not  _that_  –"

Dawn’s expression lost some of its shell-shocked look, but she still looked wary.  “You share his bed? Isn’t that… awfully  _intimate_?”

Marianne shrugged and looked away, trying to ignore that her cheeks were beginning to flush despite herself. “Well, where else would I sleep? It’s not like the Dark Forest has a bunch of guest rooms, it’s not a big deal…”

Dawn slowly nodded, though her cheeks were now a bit pink too. “Of course, it’s not a big deal at all! I just – it’s so funny, I would have never thought you and him were doing something so…I don’t know,  _homey.“_

“Homey,” Marianne repeated, and wrinkled her nose at her sister. “As opposed to what, sparring all the time?”

Dawn laughed at that, and Marianne quickly joined her.  She couldn’t really blame Dawn’s surprise – even with all the endless support and affection Dawn had for her and Bog and their relationship, there would just be some things that would be weird to hear about ones sibling, and sleeping habits in regards to romantic relationships was one of them.  Heck, Marianne probably would have been just as surprised if Dawn had said the same thing about her and Sunny -

Though now that Marianne thought of it, after Dawn had left her room and she had settled back upon her bed, petals soft beneath her skin…she never actually  _had_ asked about a guest room, or any kind of separate bedding. She had been the one to suggest sharing Bog’s bed, after all, and he had been just as gob-smacked as Dawn at her suggestion…

_Was_  it toointimate?

Marianne cradled Dawn’s bundle closer to her, biting her lip, pondering it over. Maybe it was, but…honestly, what was the point of being with someone if you couldn’t be like that with them? And even if she  _did_  wonder at how they could be so relaxed and casual with one another, she didn’t  _worry_ over it.

So what if it was unusual, different from other couples?  _Different_  was what they did, they didn’t  _need_  to follow any expectations. That’s what made it so nice, something that they shared just with each other, it was why she loved it so…

To be able to have that time alone with him, simply relax together…

Maybe let their hands wander…

Shamelessly make out with no fear of someone walking in…

_Ooooh, like last time…_

Marianne grinned and wriggled back onto her bed, her return to the Dark Forest delayed as she dreamily sighed over the memory of that one particularly brilliant embrace, hugging Dawn’s little package to her chest as she allowed herself a moment of swoony reflection she would never  _ever_ admit to.

* * *

Seriously, what were the chances of her getting hit in the face by a mud ball twice?

Marianne grumbled as she trudged down the hallway to Bog’s chambers, trekking some mud behind her. The Forest had gotten even marshier lately, and some of the goblins had wanted a rematch to the first battle. Marianne had, unsurprisingly, gotten pulled into the thick of it.  She had tried to wipe off her boots as best as she could, but some of the muck had gotten into her hair, and she would need to brush it out until she could bathe again. At least she had gotten most of it off her face with some handy puddle water…

Damn, who would have guessed  _Thang_ of all goblins could have such a strong arm? Never mind that he had practically fainted from horror when he had seen what he’d done to her, and she had spent a few good minutes trying to comfort him instead of wiping off the quickly hardening mud.

Reaching the chamber, she shoved open the door with a shoulder and started picking around the chamber, hunting for the little bundle her sister had put together for her. She hadn’t really thought of it, had only brought it back to the Forest with her absentmindedly, but now Marianne was very thankful for her sister’s foresight – she was pretty sure there would be a comb in there…if only she could find the stupid thing…

Muttering to herself, Marianne tugged away one of the moss blankets from where it had fallen to the floor there that morning - Bog had had to leave early and Marianne had given him a particularly memorable good-bye. Shifting the bedding, she immediately brightened at the sight of the still unopened package before pouncing on it. She rifled through it, snorting as she took in what her sister had seen fit to pack. There was the nightgown, more than a few outfits, some soap and –  _yes!_

Marianne quickly pulled the hairbrush out and ran it through her hair, tugging at the stiff muddy spots with only a few mutters. Giving one last stroke, Marianne tossed her hair and wished for a way to check how she looked – she was sure that thanks to the mud and water she had once again lost her makeup, but if her hair didn’t look too wild it wouldn’t be that bad.

Yet mirrors weren’t a big thing in the Dark Forest – fairies were one of the few species to craft them, which Marianne was sure others would tribute to their admitted preoccupation with vanity. The more rough-and-tumble goblins would have no use for them. There was also the sadly unsurprising fact that Bog had issues with them, something that she was determined to change one day.

Giving a little sigh, she went to put the brush back into the bundle only to hear a  _clink_ , like glass being hit. Cocking her head curiously, Marianne peered into the contents, and a smile split her face when she saw what it had been.  _Score!_  She eagerly pulled out the small looking glass along with a strange little wooden container, the purpose of which she couldn’t decipher. She quickly gave herself a cursory glance in the glass – hair was fine, only just a little dirty, but her eyes were once again free from makeup …

She sighed, and then concentrated on the little box, opening it curiously. It was full of what looked to be some sort of dark, damp paste, which had a fragrant and familiar smell. Marianne prodded at it, and her fingertips came away stained a deep purple. She sniffed at them curiously, trying to place the scent. It was almost sweet, and for some reason made her think of the meadow where she would train, slicing berries for target practice –

Berries! It was berry juice! But why would Dawn –

_Aw, she had remembered…!_

Smiling over her sister’s thoughtfulness, Marianne quickly grabbed the mirror once more and propped it up against her knees so she could get a good view of her face. She dipped her fingers into the container, getting a hefty dollop of the paste, and began to carefully apply it to her eyes, smudging and dragging with deft touches. Her lips took on a pleased curve as her eyes began to take on that familiar, much loved smoky edge to them.

She heard the door open, and wiggled the fingers of her free over her shoulder. “Done terrorizing your subjects, your highness?”

“What you call  _terrorizing_ I call  _necessary steps to keep my sanity.”_  Bog made his way over to one of the alcove windows, snatching a scroll off of it before raising a brow at her. “Why are you covered in mud?”

“Not covered,” Marianne retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. “Spattered, at the most. The goblins had a rematch, I got pulled in.” She shrugged toward the package. “Thankfully Dawns’ got me covered this time.”  

Leaning over curiously, Bog let out a soft little growl of distaste when he saw the mirror, gleaming innocently. “Why would you need one of those wretched things –?”

Marianne rolled her eyes. “Hatred for inanimate objects isn’t exactly a healthy thing, Bog –“

“Says the Fairy who cursed out a root after tripping over it,” Bog retorted, though there was an edge of amusement to his voice.

“Oh hush, that root was sneaky, the mirror is utterly inoffensive,” Marianne sniffed. She wiggled said inoffensive object at him. “Besides, I need it to do my makeup.”   

She ignored Bog’s puzzled look and went back to concentrating on her primping. As she dipped her fingers into the container and dragged the cosmetic carefully across her lids, she noticed Bog’s reflection looking curiously at her in the looking glass. Bright blue eyes tracked her movements, following her fingers, the tips of them now stained a deep purple. His gaze flicked back and forth between the little container and her meticulous touches before he gave a sudden  _“Ah!”_ as though finally understanding something.

Marianne had no idea what the big breakthrough was and put it down to Bog being a nerd. She snapped the container shut and put it and the looking glass aside, before examining her nails. She clicked her tongue in annoyance - they were going to be stained all day now. Although mud seemed to be the cure all when it came to it…  

Bog had edged closer, also peering down at her fingers, and he looked so inexplicably intrigued that Marianne had to grin. He could be so… _cute_ sometimes, fascinated by the simplest thing she did, even if she had no idea what had could catch his attention so.

That didn’t stop her from booping his nose playfully when she rose from the bed, her fingers still wet with juice, and she let out a snort when she saw how her touch had stained his skin with a little dab of purple. After all those love-bites he had given her, it was only fair for her to mark him in some manner. Bog jerked away but not before she quickly dragged her fingers down his cheek as well, three clear little paths showing her caress.

Bog batted her hand away and shot her a look. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“A mark for a mark.” She grinned as his confusion, before snatching the mirror up from the bed and tossing it to him as she made her way over to the door. “See for yourself, your majesty.”

She had to bite her lip in an effort to keep herself from laughing when she heard his dismayed oath. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with menace. “This had better come off, Tough Girl.”

“You can always try mud,” Marianne advised airily over her shoulder, traipsing out of the room, his snarl of annoyance following her.     

* * *

Scepter and sword met with a mighty  _CLANG,_  and Marianne was able to flit out of the way in time as Bog kicked out at her. She braced herself against the wall and smirked at him. “Sloppy!”

Bog snarled at her, and she laughed before pushing herself off and rushing at him. Swinging her sword at his side, Marianne was about to crow out her victory when Bog unexpectedly ducked and drove a shoulder into her, making her tumble and fall to the ground in a messy sprawl. He grinned down at her, eyes smug. “ _Rash.”_

She growled at him, embarrassment and exhaustion making her burn.  _This_  is why she preferred fighting in flight – her wings rarely failed her, whereas her feet…But that’s why they needed to do this, needed to practice on the terrain, he knew she had wanted to –

_“Arrogant.”_  She spat out, and rolled out of the way as his scepter swung down, hitting the floor with a solid  _thud._  Scrambling her feet, she flipped her sword with her foot off of the ground and caught it neatly before pointing it at him.  “And it’s bad form to strike at someone while they’re down!”

“I’m returning the favor,” Bog retorted, spinning the scepter to track her.

Feint to the right, swing at side, eyes rolling. “God, that was one time –!“

Block blow, swinging counterstrike, teeth gritted. “I’ve got a long memory –!“

“Don’t I know it,” Marianne grunted, before lunging at him. Bog met her, and they continued to battle, snarling and panting and loving every moment of it.

A small part of Marianne knew that that was another thing they shared, the capacity to hold onto grudges and remember stings and let wounds fester instead heal. Ironically, it was because of each other that they were growing in that regard – if not forgetting the past, then letting go of it, finally being able to see how holding onto something poisonous only ended up hurting themselves –

Lost to her thoughts, Marianne didn’t notice the sudden switch of the scepter from one hand to the other, and suddenly it was bearing down on her in a vicious upper strike. She frantically tried to dodge it, turning away, but was too late. The spikes around the amber slashed across her back, and she let out cry of surprise more than pain, losing her sword and stumbling back, clutching at her shoulder.  _Holy hell, that was close!_

Bog immediately dropped the scepter to the floor and went to rush to her.  _“Marianne –!"_

“It’s okay, I’m fine, I’m fine! You just surprised me,” she assured him, and his expression of horror melted into one of worry. Neither of them ever backed down during a spar, but wounding the other was something else entirely. They had managed to avoid it so far, but what with Bog having something of an upper hand in strength and already nervous about his natural spikiness harming her in any capacity, he would take it especially hard if she was…

Marianne focused and gave him a smile to show him there really was nothing to worry about. “Seriously, I’m okay.” She stretched her arm to shake of the adrenaline still buzzing through her. There was a soft slither across her skin, and she looked down to see the strap of her top start fall down.  _Oh jeez._

“You sure?” He asked, some of the tension leaving his shoulders but still concerned.

“Yeah,” she grunted, running fingers over the tear. The fabric was tougher than the average petals fairies normally used to make clothing, but it still hadn’t stood a chance against Bog’s scepter. She thought of how easily her flesh could have been sliced and repressed a shiver, before turning to show him. “Only damage was to this.” She went to peel her tunic away from her shoulder, and gave a grunt of surprise. “Man, you really did slice me. Thank god it was just the – “

There was a yelp of alarm and suddenly Bog was next to her, gathering her in his arms, holding one hand against the sliced garment, eyes frantic. “ _Marianne, don’t pick at it!_  I – we need to keep pressure on it, I had no idea it was so – I’m  _so_  sorry, darling -!”

Marianne could only look at him, completely baffled. “…Bog? What are you -”

_“I hurt you,”_  and he sounded so distraught that Marianne reached out to him, concerned. He quickly grabbed her arm and pushed it to her side. “No, try not to move, I don’t want to agitate it further –  _gods,_  I can’t believe you’re so calm right now –“

Marianne squirmed back, still hopelessly lost. “Bog, what the hell are you talking about? Agitate what?”

“That!” He pointed a claw at her sliced strap. “Your armor! I knew your skin was more fragile than mine, but…gods,  _I’m so sorry_   _Marianne_ , I swear if I had known just how –"

Marianne could only stare at him dumbly, and he grew more nervous, eyes flitting from her sliced garment to her face. “Marianne, love, speak to me. Is it…is the pain bad? Are you going into shock? It happens, it’s nothing to be -”

“Bog,” Marianne interrupted, slowly putting her finger to his lip, causing him to pause anxiously. “What do you think this is?” She gestured to her tunic, to her whole outfit.

“Marianne, that’s not – we need to get you looked at –"

_“What,”_  Marianne cut in, punctuating each word with a jab at her tunic,  _“do you think this is?”_

Bog gave an impatient sigh, frustrated at her obvious lack of concern for her wellbeing. “Your exoskeleton, of course, now can you tell me if you’re going into bloody shock or not?!”

Marianne groaned and covered her eyes. “Oh. My. God.”

Bog immediately went to cradle her to him, eyes anxious once more. “Is the pain getting worse -?”

“No, Bog, honey, no, it’s -” Marianne stepped back from him and sighed.  _Oh boy._  “It’s fine, I’m fine, I’m not hurt, I’m completely fine.”

“You’re…not in pain?”

“Not at all,” she answered, a slight smile on her lips at his obvious relief. “Bog…I don’t have an exoskeleton like you do. I have…these are my clothes. You just cut my top, that’s all.”

Bog’s brow furrowed. “Clothes?”

“Yeah, clothes. Garments…” Marianne tilted her head at him, wary. “You…you know what they are, right? Fairies wear them, elves wear them –“

“Clothes…” Bog paused, his brow still knit, looking like he was pondering something very mighty indeed, before he suddenly nodded. “Oh,  _aye,_ clothes. Right. What Mother –  _right_. Fairies have them too?”

“Yeah…” She raised a brow at him. “Wait, so…goblins don’t do that? At all?”

Bog shrugged, focusing his attention back to the rent garment, any previous fear for her lost to curiosity at this new information. “Well, there’s some like Mother who like them, but most of us just find them…unnecessary. Many of us have our defenses in our skin, we needn’t concern ourselves with that rubbish.”

“Fairies do,” Marianne replied a bit tartly. “We happen to like that rubbish quite a lot, as a matter of fact.”

Bog flinched, a bit shamefaced. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Marianne could admit that fairies often placed far too much importance on apparel and appearance. “It’s not just about defense, though. I mean, it protects us, but…you know, it’s fun.”

Bog’s eyes scanned her whole body, and Marianne felt herself begin to blush even though his gaze was purely curious. “But defense is a part of it, aye?”

“Yeah, I guess, though to be fair we don’t live with all the prickly stuff you can find in the Forest, so we don’t have to worry as much.” Marianne shifted a bit under his scrutiny.

“And it’s…” Bog screwed up his face, his voice getting a disbelieving edge to it,  _“…fun?”_

“Yeah – I guess we’d be fine without them, but…sure, it’s fun. It’s the same thing with makeup and jewelry. Like, I don’t need my eyes to look like this, but –" Marianne paused, eyes going wide. “Wait a second,  _is that why -?_  Oh my god, you thought my eyes were like this naturally, didn’t you?!”

Bog shrugged, and his mouth got a bit of a bashful grin to it. “I… _had_ wondered why you looked so different after you had washed that mud off –"  

She huffed out a laugh, still surprised. “But you’ve seen Dawn, you know how she looks –"

“You’re different,” Bog said, and Marianne felt a little pleasurable glow at how the words were full of fondness instead of condemnation. “I thought that was just another way–"

Marianne hummed thoughtfully. “Fair enough. I am the only Fairy I know who wears makeup like this.”

Bog leaned over her, still taking her in, and she felt her whole body begin to tingle with warmth. “Do other fairies have exos – sorry, wear clothes like yours?”

“Nah, I’m the odd one out with that too. Dawn’s tried to make me wear lighter colors for years now, but I just like jewel tones more.” Marianne fiddled with the hem of her tunic, remembering how it hadn’t been just Dawn to suggest new clothing.  _Buttercup, why not wear somethin’ brighter? You’re a beauty, but honey, all those dark hues make ya look like somethin’ out of that awful Forest, and you’re a Fairy ain’t cha? I just want ya to look good, darlin’ -_

“I’m partial to them as well,” Bog remarked frankly, his eyes going from her tunic to her wings. “Though I would wager you would look lovely in anything.”

Marianne felt a gush of affection banish the still remembered sting of Roland’s words, and smiled at him teasingly. “Flatterer.”

“Honest.” He retorted, though he returned her smile before focusing back on her tunic. “So, truly – none of this is your skin? I…I really didn’t hurt you?”

“Bog, I’m fine.” Marianne’s heart gave a little pang at the renewed worried edge to his voice, and was suddenly seized by an idea. An impulsive, not-at-all-proper idea, one that went beyond intimate and in fact flat out toed the line into scandalous. But…if it made him stop worrying…

What the hell, it was the just the two of them here…

Marianne felt her heart begin to pick up speed even as she turned around, only her back facing him, letting her wings go slack and hoped her nerves weren’t too apparent when she spoke. “Actually…let me show you.”

She could practically feel Bog’s curiosity grow as she tugged at her top, fiddling with the minuscule ties, before she shrugged off both of the straps, the damaged one dangling free. Her heart began to beat a sharp staccato in her chest as she heard him give a slight inhale of surprise as she let top drop down her back. Her voice was determinedly blasé when she spoke. “See? Totally fine, not even a scratch.”

She kept her eyes forward, steadfastly staring at the ground as she felt him get closer. There was nothing truly nerve-wracking about this, really there wasn’t. She was just…showing him she was alright.

_By baring your back and making yourself all vulnerable and exposing yourself to him…_

Marianne felt the heat of his large, rough palm barely brush against her skin, and she bit her lip, inexplicably overwhelmed. Then she sensed it suddenly withdrawing from her, and when Bog spoke, his voice was hesitant. “Um…m-may I?”

Marianne felt equally nervous, but she gamely shrugged a shoulder, which had the unintended effect of making the damaged strap fall down even further. She quickly adjusted it before replying. “Sure…why not?” It wasn’t like he wasn’t  _already_  familiar with her skin, wasn’t like she didn’t  _know_ what he felt like. What would make this so different?

But as soon as she felt the slow slide of his palm against her, the sensation of his gnarled knuckles tracing down her spine, a shiver tore through her.  _Whoa -!_

Bog immediately flinched back. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-!”

 “It’s okay!” Marianne assured him, but her eyes were huge, the aftershock of the shudder thudding through her, her heart racing all over again.  _Oh my **god**._  “You didn’t – I didn’t –I’m fine, Bog, I swear.” She huffed out a laugh, running a hand through her hair distractedly as her other hand continued to hold her top up. “I had  _no_  idea I would react like that…” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Although when he had paid her back for exploiting the spine thing, she had melted into a happy puddle. But then his claws has been tracing over her clothes, not her skin.  _It was nothing like this…_

She could feel that he was still uneasy, still loath to endanger her in anyway. “Marianne, you don’t have to –"

“I’m fine,” she said firmly, mentally scolding herself. “And you’re right, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. So…trust me, I….”  _I want this. I want you to see this part of me._

Bog’s silence was still tinged with wariness, and Marianne was prepared to gear up for another bout of convincing when she felt his hand return to her back, his palm nearly spanning her whole torso, heavy and warm and rough, sending little pinpricks of heat sparking through her.  _Oh, wow…_

“You…it feels different here.” Bog’s voice was softer, almost surprised, and the rumble of his low tone made Marianne shift from foot to foot, a slow ache of  _something_ going through her. “Softer, almost? It’s…it’s paler, too…”

“Clothes keep the sun away,” Marianne explained. Her voice sounded rather breathless, though there was no reason - “Skin is sensitive. It burns, you know? And since our wings are on our backs, a sunburned back is…pretty painful, let’s just say that.”

“I would have thought fairies would crave the sun as much as possible.” Rough fingertips traced the line of her spin carefully, palming the arch of it, before proceeding cautiously up to her wings. Marianne felt another intense shiver threaten to overwhelm her.  _Keep it together, Tough Girl._

“We love it,” Marianne replied frankly, arching just a bit under his touch, “but…we’re not immune. It can hurt us. Goblins might be more sensitive to it, but we have to be careful too.”  She tried to concentrate on her words, tried to keep her voice steady and her tone pragmatic, but the slow drag of his fingers, rough knuckles and claws, across her…If anyone walked in right now and saw them like this, her top practically off, Bog’s hands slowly feeling every inch of her…

Did he realize just how intimate this was? Why was it so intimate, why was she…? Her heart was still racing, it shouldn’t be,  _this shouldn’t be such a big deal,_  it was just her back, just her top shrugged only halfway off, just Bog…

…Just Bog and the slow and achingly wonderful friction of his palms and fingers against skin that had never been caressed so tenderly, claws barely skimming over her in tingly little paths, like raindrops trailing down lush rose petals…

She briefly imagined what his face must look like right then - drinking her in, each and every little imperfection, the bones and bumps and fragile nature of it all, feeling each shiver she gave – and she had to close her eyes at the image that flashed through her.  _Dangerous._  She frantically thought back to his earlier words. “Is…is it really that much softer?” She murmured over her shoulder, and she wanted to kick herself over the sheer inanity of the question.  _Oh god, what am I doing?_

“You’re soft all over.” Bog’s voice was also a murmur now, and it slid around Marianne’s senses, making her want to close her eyes, sink into his voice, his touch. “But…this is…there’s not a mark here. It’s smooth, and I thought you couldn’t get any more…” His voice trailed off, and Marianne felt herself almost grow dizzy.  _Say something, idiot._

“I’ve got calluses on my hands,” she said, chatty and totally-utterly-completely casual. She absentmindedly noticed that her fingers had clenched into her clothing, her knuckles almost white. “And – and a bunch of other scars too. Like, everywhere. From training. And stuff. My back is just…you know, it’s not weathered like the rest of me.”

“I like your scars,” He replied, almost as if to reassure her. Did he think she was offended? “And this. Um. This is just, uh…new. To me. I’ve never…I just… I just didn’t…”

Marianne didn’t know what was happening, had  _no_  idea just what exactly was occurring. This was becoming so much more than what she had bargained for, what either of them had expected, but heaven help her, she prayed he wouldn’t stop touching her, would never ever stop–

Bog’s voice was low and thickened as he continued, and she could have sworn in that moment she  _felt_  it, the husky heat almost as tangible as his intoxicating touch.  _“I just didn’t think ye could feel even more irresistible –“_

At that moment his fingers, claws still barely passing over her skin, stroked carefully, almost delicately, at the base of her wings.

Marianne’s gasp was loud and sudden and shocked both of them. Bog flinched back as she nearly leapt out of her skin, stumbling away, her heart hammering anew and her wings flaring.  _His hands – her wings – irresistible, he called her irresistible, no one had ever called her that –_

Her cheeks glowing, her heart practically in her throat, Marianne tugged her top back, fingers fumbling with the straps, the broken one still useless. Her eyes stayed desperately glued to the floor.   _Oh god oh god oh god –_

She tried to breathe, in and out, calm and steady, as she willed herself to look over at Bog. She didn’t want him to think – didn’t want him to get the wrong idea – it had been – he had –

His face was just as flushed as hers felt, and he also seemed steadfast in avoiding any eye contact. Now that they weren’t mapping new territories of her skin, his hands were clenched in fists by his side, claws twitching in agitation. Nervousness and tension rolled off of him and she could already see the start of some miserable self-berating begin to form in his head.  _Oh, Bog, no –_

“Sorry,” she got out, her voice a bit faint, and he looked up at her sharply. She cleared her throat and continued more composedly. “I guess…sensitive skin? Super sensitive skin. When it comes to the wings. Sort of like the spine thing, but more…” She broke off, aware that she was babbling in half sentences, and tried again.  _Coherency is your friend, Marianne._   “I wasn’t – I wasn’t expecting that…”

Though there was nothing about this she could have expected, nothing that could have prepared her for something like  _that_ …

Some tenseness left Bog’s shoulders, but his face remained wary. “Did I…I didn’t -?”

“You didn’t hurt me, I promise.” Marianne’s voice was warm with earnestness. 

But he wasn’t finished. “And…I didn’t…” He looked away, breathing out a rough exhale before continuing, determinedly looking away from her once more, the flush on his cheeks getting even more intense, “I didn’t…go too…I didn’t make you feel…?”

Marianne stared at him, desperately trying to understand what he was trying to ask as quick as she could, wanting to end his obvious discomfort as soon as possible. Her eyes flickered back and forth over his face, his clenched jaw, and the nervous, almost guilty glint in his eyes –  ** _Oh._**  

“You didn’t cross any lines,” she assured him quietly, closing the distance between them to touch his chest comfortingly. Her other hand snaked up to cradle the craggy line of his jaw, and bright blue eyes looked down into brown, desperately seeking the truth of her words. Marianne’s gaze was steadfast and guileless. “You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I…I wanted that, Bog.” 

She smiled softly as she felt him slowly relax, before feeling a sharp, unpleasant jolt as something suddenly occurred to her. “Wait, I…I didn’t make you feel, uh, did I -?”  _Had it been too much, had she gone too far, always testing limits, a Princess shouldn’t be so brash -?_

“What -?!  _No!_  No no no, not at all!” Bog said hastily, and despite the still present flush on his cheeks and the anxious clacking of his claws, she could tell he was being honest. “No, that was…” he let out another exhale, and this one was softer, almost…reverent? “That was…”

He seemed unable to find words, and Marianne felt her heart contract when he met her gaze again, his eyes full of something indefinable that nonetheless made her pulse race…    

Because while they  _hadn’t_ gone too far,  _hadn’t_  pushed each other past the point of comfort… _something_  had indeed been crossed, an invisible boundary that there was no coming back from. The silence between them seemed to become fathomless with this fact, and each of them gazed into the others eyes, neither daring to voice what they were thinking but still desperately trying to discern what it all meant…

_His hand on her bare skin, skin that had never been touched before, which would now never be touched by anyone but him if Marianne got her way, exploring her, the delicious friction of his palm flooding her with slow burning heat and want…_

Something had been crossed, and now they were in new territory, far beyond any make-out session, beyond their most passionate embrace. This had been…something else entirely. Something that had left both of them past any return.

And Marianne was willing to wager neither of them wanted to go back.  _He called me irresistible…_

Marianne felt her cheeks get all tingly again and had to look away, coughing loudly before pointing at their abandoned weapons. “Um…spar? I mean, uh, you wanna continue?”

Bog immediately grabbed onto the not so subtle lifeline. “Yes! Uh, right, good, good idea!” He grabbed his scepter and her sword from the floor while she knotted the split strap together in a makeshift repair that would have to do for now. He offered her the blade, his face wearing an incredibly familiar expression of nervousness. “…Here.”

Marianne felt close to laughter.  _Here we are again._  “Thank you,” she replied, only now it was deeply affectionate, and Bog’s answering smile was now equal parts shy and tender. So much had changed, so much had stayed the same…

They quickly fell back into sparring, letting nerves come out in slices and dodges and sore muscles. But each knew that both of them would have to address what had happened…whatever it had been.

Marianne grunted into her next swing and blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. Later. They could always do it later.

She dodged a sideswipe and managed to catch Bog unawares and kick his feet out from underneath him. He hit the ground hard, snarling out a vicious curse, and this time she  _did_  laugh.  _He called me irresist –_

Bog suddenly yanked at her ankle with his foot, sending her crashing to the floor as well. Marianne’s laughter became a pained grunt as she landed hard on her rump, and she grimaced as Bog let out a triumphant cackle.

_-ible. **Ow.**   _

* * *

Marianne gave a blissful, dreamy sigh and sank further into the gloriously steaming water, letting her head tilt back as she melted against the rocky side of the hot water spring, her wings safely spread out behind her. Oh god, this was  _heaven…_

She had always felt more than a little guilty about the part she played in the destruction of Bog’s old fortress. Though the new Castle - a far more sturdier and larger stump - was comfortingly similar to the last one, and even if the goblins had been able to recover almost everything truly important from the wreckage – the throne, archives worth of historical documents and lore of the Dark Forest, the skull for the entrance - they had lost so much because of her. Well, Roland more so than her.  

But now…said guilt was somewhat assuaged by the fact that there were serious benefits to Bog’s new abode. Such as a hot spring located in the underground caverns.

She had found out this morning over breakfast, after mildly grousing to Griselda over the fact that she had no place to properly clean herself. There was always the stream in the Forest, but then there remained the chance of anyone being able to walk in on her. While fairies often bathed outside, they preserved modesty by having private bathing quarters created for male and females alike. What with all the mud-fights she had been part of lately, Marianne had never appreciated her species ingenuity when it came to keeping clean more.

Griselda had then cheerfully mentioned that she had happened to find the natural hot spring whilst exploring the new castle. Marianne’s ears had positively perked up at the news – hot springs were rare indeed - and Griselda’s gushing descriptions of how the little pool was apparently “the most perfect temperature for a good long soak, honey doll!” only fueled her anticipation.

Already sweaty and rumpled from her early morning spar with Bog, and still nursing a bruise from her fall, Marianne had quickly gotten directions from Griselda before eagerly excusing herself for some much needed pampering. She had only stopped by Bog’s chambers to grab some soap, lavender oil, and a towel from Dawn’s bundle before flitting down to the underground caverns, which while on the damp side were still remarkably cozy under the warm orange glow of lanterns. The hot spring had burbled up from the ground, and what with the rock formations around her, it reminded Marianne rather of the alcoves in Bog’s room, roomy but also gloriously secluded.

Marianne had carefully dipped a toe into the bubbling spring, its slightly sulfurous smell making her nose crinkle. But oh, the water had immediately made her hum with bliss, perfectly warm and oh-so-good against her aching foot, and she had practically melted in anticipation to submerge herself in it. Stripping off her clothes and taking great pains not to get any water on her wings, Marianne had slowly lowered herself completely into the pool, and her sigh had been positively indecent…

Now she wriggled down, the ebb and flow of the water and bubbles making her practically purr. She had already scrubbed every inch of herself, luxuriously lathering up and dunking what she could, making sure she wasn’t splashing about too much. She had worked the oil into her scalp, messaging it into fragrant suds, her fingertips rubbing and dragging until she was practically boneless under her own touch.

She let out a deeply satisfied groan before dipping her head under water to rinse, dragging her hair away from her neck to keep it from dribbling down to her wings. It already felt softer, silkier, healthy and clean and  _god,_  who knew a simple bath could be so wondrously rejuvenating? Marianne lazily wondered if it was possible to melt from sheer languidness – she felt like she was practically becoming liquid herself, she was so  _wonderfully_  relaxed.

Her fingers dragged through her hair before dropping to her neck, and Marianne slowly and thoroughly kneaded at a knot there, groaning low in her throat at the sensation. God, she had obviously needed this. Sparring with Bog left her loose and positively thrumming with high spirits, but  _this_ was… ** _wow…_**

Her shoulder now nice and loose under her ministrations, she switched to her left one, flexing and stretching before letting her fingers dig in. She hadn’t pulled anything this morning, but her sword had hit against the wall at one point, sending judders up through the blade into her hand, and she had nearly dropped it, it felt so frankly  _wrong._  

_Her sword_ …that had been another item recovered from the ruin of the old castle. Bog himself had combed through the mess of destruction to find it for her…

Marianne smiled softly, reflecting back to how she had nearly cried when Bog had presented it to her, almost shyly - she had thought she had lost it forever. Bog’s expression of obvious relief and embarrassment over her joyous gratitude had made her laugh then and made her chuckle now, warm and low in her throat as she continued to loll about in the water.  _Bog…_

Bog was once more gone for the day, and Marianne had been somewhat relieved to know there was no chance of her pampering being interrupted. But now…

Marianne leaned back further, her hand dipping and making little lazy circles in the water. Would Bog ever do something like this? He had said his wings weren’t bothered by water like hers were. Marianne had to giggle as she imagined him in her place, sprawling in the water, taking up far more room than she ever could…

Although…if one day, further into the future, when they had reached a certain point …maybe if he  _joined_  her…well…that could be  _fun_ …

Marianne’s lazy grin melted into a smirk, and one hand gently disappeared beneath the surface of the water, trailing down her collarbone to her sternum before slowly drifting to one breast, stroking languidly as she imagined a far rougher tough…

She shivered delightedly at the sensitivity of her skin, biting her lip.  _Ohhh,_  she shouldn’t, she really  _really_ shouldn’t –

“Princess Marianne? Are you down here?”

Marianne groaned and withdrew her hand.  _Of course._  She raised herself up out of the water a bit to reply to Thang’s call. “Yeah, I’m having a soak. What’s up, buddy?”

“His Majesty has returned and was wondering where you were, M’Lady.” Marianne could hear Thang get closer, heading down the stairs to the cavern. “He said he wanted to share some news that would be useful for your diplomacy program –"

“Alright, I’ll go talk to him.” Marianne wasn’t all too thrilled to cut her bath short, but diplomacy came first. She stood and luxuriously stretched, feeling her muscles pull and ache pleasantly. “Just let me get out and get a towel and –"

Her eyes opened to see where she had put that wrap of Lamb’s Ear when she saw Thang casually standing right in front of her, his big eyes taking her in.

_All of her in._

“THANG!” Marianne shrieked, jumping back, and Thang leapt back as well, immediately cowering.  She frantically tried to cover herself with her hands. “THANG, WHAT ARE YOU – OH MY GOD,  _HOW LONG HAVE YOU -?!”_

Thang flinched, looking desperately confused. “Princess Marianne, is there something wrong -?”

Marianne was about to scream some more when Stuff waddled into the cavern, looking annoyed. “Thang, have you found her yet -? Oh!” Stuff had noticed Marianne and gave her a wave, smiling. “Hello, your highness! We were just looking for you –"

Marianne frantically splashed down into the water, not even thinking about her wings. “Stuff, Thang,  _what -?! Why -?!_  Didn’t Griselda tell you I was bathing -?! 

“Yes, of course she did, M’Lady, that’s how we knew to look here –"

“She said you were really excited about the hot spring –"

_“Then why did you walk in on me?!”_  Marianne shouted, her voice cracking from sheer humiliation.

But before either of them could reply –

“Stuff, Thang, did you find her?”

Marianne’s mind went nearly blank with horror as the new voice approached.  _Oh no oh no **oh please no**  -_

Bog rounded the corner. “Ah, Marianne, there you are. I need to –"

_This could not be real, this could **not** be real-!_  _“BOG!”_

He stopped, taken aback at her rather shrill yell. “What?”

She hunched over in the water, desperately hoping that everything important was hidden from view. “LEAVE! ALL OF YOU!  _NOW!”_

Stuff and Thang exchanged baffled glances, and Bog’s face got even more confused. “But…why?”

_“BECAUSE I’M NAKED!”_

Now it was Bog who exchanged a baffled glance with his two lackeys before looking at her, eyes squinting in puzzlement. “And that’s…important…?”

Marianne blamed sheer desperation and blind panic for her next action. She seized the nearest thing – the bar of soap – and threw it at the three of them with all her might.  ** _“GET OUT! NOW!”_**   

Some part of her was aware that it was the sheer rage in her voice that made them flee rather than her improvised weapon, but flee they did. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Marianne would have laughed to see Bog rush out in such a panic. But as it was –

_He saw me naked!_

She groaned, her face sinking into her hands, her cheeks hot with humiliation against her wet palms.  _Oh god, they had all -! But **Bog** , of all people -!_

Some part of her remained somewhat rational.  _He’s only just started to understand clothing. He wouldn’t have known it was a big deal –_

But Marianne was still smarting after the sudden shock, and such a thought only served to irritate her further. She slapped at the water in frustration, splashing it about. Her wings were now wet, her blissful calm was utterly annihilated, and now three goblins knew what she looked like naked.

And one of them was Bog.  _DAMMIT._

She stomped out of the water, snapping her wings fiercely to dry them off – they were only a tiny bit damp, they wouldn’t take long to dry. She grabbed her towel off of the floor of the cavern and tugged it around her. Her skin was still dripping and pink from the heat of the water and her blush, and Marianne combed her fingers through her wet hair in a vain attempt to calm herself.  _Be cool, don’t let it get to you, don’t let it…he’s only just stopped thinking your clothes are your exoskeleton, of course he wouldn’t see why it was a big deal –_

But it didn’t make it any less humiliating!

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Marianne gathered up her clothes and toiletries - her soap now having a decided dent in it from where it had rebounded off the wall – and hugged them to her, her heart still beating hard in her chest.  _Deep, relaxing breaths. C’mon, Tough Girl._ She breathed in and out, as steady as she could, and her pulse finally did calm down, the burn on her cheeks fading a bit. She let out one more gusty exhale, before starting up the stairs that would take her straight to Bog’s chambers.  _Where she could hide away -_

_No._  No, she would  _not_. She was  _not_ going to let this get to her –

Oh  _god,_  how could a simple bath bring so much trouble?!

Kicking open the door at the top of the stairs, Marianne almost immediately collided with Bog. Because of  _course_  he would have stayed close by to find out just  _what_  had upset her so badly. Marianne was able to turn her yelp of alarm into a sigh rough with exasperation.

Bog flinched a bit before speaking rapidly, his eyes avoiding her. “Um, Marianne, I don’t know what happened down there, but – I, um, I mean, I  _do_  know what happened down there, but I, uh, none of us, um, knew what it all  _meant_ , but –"

He stopped suddenly, his eyes going a bit wide as he finally looked at her properly, taking in her sodden and only halfway decent state. 

Marianne felt another hot furl of embarrassment go through her, but determinedly looked back at him, waiting for him to say something.  _Hopefully an apology…_

He took in her towel tucked around her body, her hair damp and curling at her neck, her skin still rosy from the hot water, and suddenly laughed. “You’re all  _pink!”_

Marianne’s shoulders slumped, and her scowl deepened.  _Yeah, that’s a no on the apology._

She marched past him, her nose in the air and determinedly ignoring him. She reached his chamber and yanked open the door, striding in.

Bog followed after her. “Marianne –"

She shut the door with a decided  _SNAP_ , right in his face, that  _stupid_  face that still had a hint of that  _stupid_  grin still on it. She dumped her bundle to the floor, and quickly let the leaf drop away from her before grabbing onto one of the blankets from the bed.

There was rapping at the door. “Marianne, come on, I’m sorry! I wasn’t expecting that!”

She toweled off more vigorously with the moss, the moisture still clinging to her skin and hair.  _Still ignoring you._

More rapping. “I wasn’t laughing at you!”

She rolled her eyes, and found a fresh top and pair of pants in Dawn’s little bundle. She tugged both of them on, her lips pursed and her movements jerky and impatient as he continued to knock.  _IGNORING YOU._

“Marianne!” Now there was a sigh of frustration. He continued. “Do you truly think I would have done that if I knew it made you upset?”

She paused at that, and then sighed hard.  _Dammit, Bog…_

She shook out her hair, freeing any excess water, and then went back to the door and opened it. She gave a quick glance up at Bog and then looked away, crossing her arms. “No, you wouldn’t,” she muttered. “And…I know that you wouldn’t.” She glanced up at him again and softened, seeing the unhappy crease of his brow, the pained confusion in his eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry I overreacted. But…” She huffed out a breath, “you can’t just barge in on me while I’m bathing, Bog! It’s a huge invasion of privacy, I know you didn’t mean it to be, but it is.”

“But  _why?”_  Bog looked so honestly perplexed that Marianne sighed, her cheeks burning all over again.

“Because I was naked, that’s why!”

Bog furrowed his brow, still nonplussed. “And…that…matters?”

“ _Yes_ , it matters,” Marianne stated empathetically. “Seeing someone without clothing always matters, Bog!”

Bog looked down at himself and then back at her, raising a brow.

Marianne was very proud of herself for not to gulping at that.  _Oh. Right._ Technically he was… _right._  She quickly marshaled her thoughts.

“Okay, uh, for goblins, it’s…obviously not, but – first off, I’m  _used_  to seeing you like that!” Although now that she thought about it, some of her caresses and embraces with him just got a  _hell_ of a lot more risqué. She struggled to concentrate. “But it’s also – it’s different for fairies! For us, being…being naked is something we can’t just  _do_ , especially around other people. It’s…it’s private…” She was barely able to get the next word out, “…Intimate.”

“Intimate?” Bog cocked his head, looking truly curious. “How so?”

Marianne leaned against the doorframe, thankful she was wearing more than a leaf. “Well…” she began, trying to parse out her jumbled thoughts; “…we’re baring ourselves to someone else. In every way. They can see  _everything_  about us, there’s nothing for us to hide behind, nothing to distract them from our flaws. And that…that can be  _really_ nerve-wracking, especially if they’re seeing you for the first time.”

Bog looked pensive at that, and Marianne could tell that while he may not completely get it, he was still taking her words seriously. She felt a rush of gratitude and continued. “Having it happen all of the sudden, especially when you’re not prepared…” She floundered, trying to think of an appropriate metaphor to make him truly understand. “It would be like…like someone tearing off your exoskeleton without any warning.” Bog flinched at that, his eyes going wide. Marianne gave him a little grimace of apology before she continued, her voice soft. “We’re vulnerable…in all ways.”

Bog looked down, obviously deep in thought over what she was saying, and Marianne bit her lip, feeling torn between relief that he wasn’t dismissing her and worry that such she was overloading him with information. A faint echo of embarrassment remained in her thoughts, but…they were talking. They were discussing and listening and learning, and she had always wanted that.

Bog looked at her, gnawing at a lip before he slowly asked, “So, you’ve never…I mean, have you ever -?”

Marianne knew what he was asking. “No, I’ve never been like that in front of anyone.” She paused, reconsidering. “Well, I mean, when I was little, yeah. It’s like that for all fairies, elves too. Our parents have to take care of us, and Dawn and I shared a room growing up. But…it’s different then.” She rubbed at her arms a bit, not sure why she was feeling nervous as she continued. “It’s when you’re an adult that it becomes…something that you only do with someone you trust. At least, that’s what I’ve always been told.”

Bog looked down at that, a faint frown coming to his mouth, an unhappy glint in his gaze. “And…I’m not one of those people yet –“

_“No!”_  Marianne gasped, immediately horrified. “Oh Bog, that’s not – I was upset because – you just surprised me, and…” she flushed before continuing, “even if you trust someone, when it’s a male and a female – I mean, when it’s in front of someone you… _care_  for…it can be super stressful.”

“But  _why_  would it be?” Bog’s brows knit, moroseness forgotten in favor of befuddlement.

Marianne shrugged helplessly. “It’s the whole vulnerability thing again. It’s tough to have someone see us at our most exposed. Even if we trust them to the ends of the earth,” she added empathetically, and Bog looked slightly placated by that, though still full of questions.

“So you were…worried about me seeing you like that? Flaws exposed?”

Marianne nodded, biting her lip and sinking a bit against the door. 

Bog sighed, looking honestly lost. “But…even if there  _are_ flaws, they’re  _you_ , and –“ he stopped, flushing a bit, and Marianne knew exactly what he had been about to say.  _And there’s nothing about you that I wouldn’t love._

She couldn’t stop the small smile that bloomed on her face. “I guess it doesn’t make much sense when you think about it like  _that,”_  she murmured. Bog looked back at her, and she let her smile grow tender as she looked at him. His flush got deeper, but he returned her tiny smile with one of his own. Marianne then raised a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m probably not explaining it that well, but…it’s how I grew up.”

Bog rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “So…when we walked in on you…”

“I got upset, yeah.” Marianne nodded briefly, feeling once again foolish over just how extreme her reaction had been. She looked away, rubbing at her own neck, not sure what to do next.

“…I’m sorry.” The words were soft but heard all the same, and Marianne snapped her head back to look at him, eyes wide. He was looking at the ground once more, nervous all over again, though now there was a guilty glint to his eye. “I didn’t know, none of us did, but…I would  _never_  want to make you feel like that, especially if you weren’t –"

Her heart melted over the worried earnestness in his voice. “Bog, I overreacted –"

“If I was in your place, I most likely would have reacted the same way,” Bog stated. “Marianne, I swear to you, I would never –"

“I know,” Marianne murmured, leaving the doorframe to step up to him, reaching up a hand to stroke the sharp line of his cheek. Blue eyes met brown, and she gave him a little one-sided grin, her eyes soft. Her words were a promise to the both of them. “I know you would never want me to feel uncomfortable. I’m not going to forget that.”

His eyes lost the worried look to them, and he stroked a hand through her still damp hair. She sighed softly and snuggled against him, tucking herself under his chin, and felt him exhale in relief before speaking. “So…lines weren’t crossed?”

Marianne hummed thoughtfully, thinking back to her earlier blaze of humiliation. “Well…maybe a bit.” She felt him tense again, and snuggled further into his embrace comfortingly. “But like you said, you wouldn’t have done it if you had known what a big deal it was. So, not really?”

Bog reflected on that, and slowly nodded. “As long as you –"

“I am.” She wound her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against the scales of his chest, the texture so strangely soothing.

Bog gently nuzzled at her brow before inhaling her in, then coughed. “Gods, you reek of lavender.”

“It’s the oil I was using. Dawn picked it out.” Marianne murmured against him, feeling a bit sleepy after all the drama. “Usually I use freesia.”

“I like that better,” Bog grumbled.

“Picky picky.” She grinned suddenly. “You know, I could pass some of it out to the goblins. Have the whole place smelling like the Fields.”

Bog snorted. “They would probably drink it.”

Marianne nearly slithered out of his arms, she was so helpless with laughter. Oh god,  _they so totally would_. Bog, feeling that dumping her on the floor would only test her already strained nerves even more, bore her hilarity with good grace.

* * *

Marianne fluttered her wings, catching the light of the early evening sun that came through the alcove windows on them, making them positively shimmer. She glanced into the mirror that Griselda had rummaged up for her – considerably larger than the one Dawn had packed - and grinned as she saw how her new tunic, the deep purple of the petals almost blue, shone under the glow of them, softly iridescent.

The cut of it clung to her body flatteringly, and allowed plenty of mobility for her to twist and flex, a boon considering sparring. The rich hue made her pale skin seem to glow and contrasted beautifully with her hazel eyes, making them shine with brilliant warmth. Marianne felt a surge of girly pleasure - damn, but did she look  _good_.  _I owe you so much for this, Dawn._

Dawn had always had an eye for fashion, but now was moving away from crafting boutonnieres to other, more complicated projects – one of which was designing a new wardrobe for her beloved older sister. Marianne had felt a bit of trepidation, knowing Dawn’s taste was far different from her own, but any qualms had immediately been silenced when Dawn had presented her first completed garment, a new tunic fashioned out of iris petals. Her little sister's face had been a touch nervous, but her blue eyes had filled with pure happiness over Marianne’s sincere delight and praise.

Of course, there was the reason why Dawn was going about making new clothing for her…

_“A Queen has to look fashionable!”_

Marianne sighed a bit, her wings dropping behind her. She didn’t mind the new clothes, didn’t mind Dawn’s enthusiasm, and didn’t mind having to worry about fashion – well, not _too_  much – as Dawn assured Marianne that she could still keep her signature look, but…

She turned away from the mirror as her pleasure at the new top was edged out by a faint spike of burgeoning anxiety.

The Queen part…that was the part that was making her guts all twisty.

_It’s gonna be soon…_

The door to the chambers opened, and Bog groaned in exasperation when he saw the large mirror against the wall. “Hells, another one?”

“You can blame your mother for it,” Marianne said, focusing back on her reflection, wondering absentmindedly if she could have Dawn fashion a new scabbard for her. It was probably not what she would  _want_  to work on, but if she wanted Marianne to be concerned about accessorizing… “I can give it back to her once I’m done, so there’s no need to be all snarly.”

“Done with what?”

“This.” Marianne gestured to her new tunic, and Bog’s brows rose as he took her in, eyes curiously going over the garment as he made his way to her. “Dawn’s latest creation. She gave it to me on my last visit back home, wanted to see if I approved. I needed a larger mirror to really see how it looked on me.”

Bog joined her by her side, and she watched his reflection in the looking glass, towering over her. She smirked as she saw how his eyes were starting to get a certain look to them as he gazed at her, and shot him a sly smile. “Like my new exoskeleton?”

She was rewarded with a tug at her ear. “It’s far from kind to mock one’s earlier ignorance, Tough Girl–"

She batted his hand away and gave him a sugary-sweet smile. “But you’re just so  _easy_ to mock –"

Bog looked as though he was tempted to give her ear another tug. “But why would you need a new one?”

Marianne sighed, turning away from the looking glass and heading to the bed. “Well…Dawn needs to know if she’s heading in the right direction with it.” She turned and sat down, sinking into the moss and snorting softly when she saw that Bog was turning the mirror around so the reflective side faced away. “This is just a test run, so to speak.”

Bog settled down next to her. “A test run? For what?”

Marianne groaned and wriggled slightly under his gaze, though it was only innocently curious. “You know how I said Dad was thinking about moving up my coronation? Well…he has. We have a date now. And Dawn thinks that I need to have a new wardrobe as Queen.” She snorted and waved a hand in a would-be blasé gesture. “That’s my sister, getting her priorities straight.”

Bog looked at her, startled. “You have a date for it now? Is it…will it be soon?”

“Not  _super_  soon, but…” Marianne drew her knees up to her chest, feeling the tunic rumple slightly with the action, and clasped her arms around them as she continued, voice soft, “…it’s definitely gonna happen.”

Bog reflected on that silently, rubbing a hand distractedly at the back of his neck. “Bloody hells, that’s strange to think about…” he muttered to himself, and Marianne let out a cynical snort.

“Tell me about it. Even after all the go ahead with my diplomacy plans, even after all the meetings…I still can’t believe it.”  _She was gonna be Queen._

Bog’s eyes took in her childlike pose, her chin resting on her knees, and his gaze become soft with concern. “Are you…how are you feeling about it all?”

Marianne lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “It hasn’t really hit me yet. I mean, yeah, I’ve been prepping for this my whole life, but…it’s just weird, you know? Knowing that I’m really gonna do it, that I’ll face it on my own. It finally feels…” she paused, not sure how to phrase it.

“Real.” Marianne looked sharply at Bog, his expression thoughtful and his eyes seeing something she couldn’t. “I felt the same way before I took the throne.”

Marianne thought about that, before asking as delicately as she could, “And…how did you feel afterwards?”

“Like I was going to be ill.” Marianne had to snort at that, and Bog grinned a bit before he looked at her seriously. “But that passed, and I managed not to bring the Forest to complete and utter ruin. Life went on as it always does. I managed.” A large hand began to rub soothing circles at the base of her spine, claws pricking through her clothing. “You’ll do more than manage. You’re going to be fine, Tough Girl. And you won’t be alone.”

Marianne scooted over and sank against him, hoping he would understand what she was trying to convey with the gesture, knowing that words wouldn’t begin to do justice to the gratitude coursing through her. She sighed, eyes closing as he tugged her to him, his palm continuing to cradle her back.  _I won’t be alone. I’ll have Dad, I’ll have Dawn, and I’ll have you._

They stayed like that for a while, before Bog shifted a bit under her. “So…since you mentioned new garments…I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. I have another question.”

Marianne leaned back to raise an eyebrow at him. “About…?”

“About…d’you remember how you mentioned that it’s, um, when it’s in front of someone you care for, a male and a female, it can be… particularly unnerving?” Bog fidgeted. “Would you…explain that a bit more?”

Marianne immediately went pink, and Bog looked panicked. “Or you don’t have to say anything at all, it’s fine –“

“No no no, it’s okay,” Marianne assured him, though oh god, of  _course_  he would remember that little bit. “It’s…well, again, it the whole vulnerability thing, but…for fairies, females and males…” she floundered, raking a hand through her hair as she tried to explain it. “It’s…we’re different. The bodies are different.” She paused, not sure if that was completely dumb to say, it was so obvious. But then, what was obvious to her might not be obvious to Bog, and vise versa…

Bog nodded slowly, brow lowered. “Right…”

Marianne exhaled.  _Okay._  “And, well…they’re more obviously different from each others than, um, goblins are. I mean, I don’t know if goblin females have certain features or um, body parts that males don’t, but if they do I haven’t been able to figure it out, I mean, I was super surprised when I found out that Stuff was a girl-”  _babbling, you’re babbling_  “–anyway, uh, males and female fairies…look very different when we’re…you know…” She shrugged her shoulders, grimacing a bit, hoping she didn’t have to spell it out.

Bog’s brow was furrowed, and then a sudden light of realization came into his eyes, and his blush matched her own. “Ah. You mean, um, in regards to…” He coughed, his eyes darting, before briefly gesturing between their two laps.

Marianne nodded, head jerking up and down sharply, cheeks glowing. “Yup.” Oh  _god,_  they were having this conversation, they were actually – but he had  _wanted_ to know, it was good to talk, no matter how gut-twistingly embarrassing it was –

Bog coughed once more, but determinedly continued. “And…seeing that,” the line of his throat worked as he swallowed, before he continued, “can be unnerving?”

“Yeah…” Marianne looked away. “We…usually only save it for when…” Oh god, was she actually going to get into  _that?!_

Bog tilted his head at her, waiting for her to continue. “When…?”

Oh god oh god  _oh god_ , of  _course_  she would open her big mouth about -! But she couldn’t leave him hanging like that, it wasn’t fair.

Marianne threw back her shoulders, steeling herself but still unable to look him in the eyes. “When…we’re about to…”  _Make love? Have sex? Screw our brains out?_  “…mate. That’s when the clothes usually come off for us.”

The silence after that made Marianne’s wings twitch, and her fingers curled and twisted anxiously into the mossy blanket. Taking a deep breath, she chanced a look at Bog.

The knots of anxiety that had formed in her unraveled slightly when she saw he was not wearing an expression of horror or shock. Well, maybe surprise, but he mostly looked…thoughtful, eyes squinting in contemplation. “So…” he said slowly, as though he wanted to make sure he absolutely understood, “so…the clothing  _has_  to come off? Sounds like a lot of trouble.”

Marianne huffed out a laugh, one born of amusement and relief. “Well, no, I guess most of it doesn’t have to come off, but…some of it does. For, um, access.”

Bog made such a funny face at that that she let out a true laugh at that, hearty and loud and expelling most of her nerves. She leaned back against him, snickering as she snuggled him. “We’re a pretty weird species to you, aren’t we?” She murmured, grinning a bit.

“No more than goblins are to you,” he replied, a bit of a smile to his voice as well, and Marianne hummed in agreement. How funny, that they had been finding out so much about each others species and cultures and norms, all because of something like clothes –

Bog’s hand wound around her waist, fingers stroking down the curve of it and Marianne arched into his touch, encouraging him. “Any more questions?” she murmured into his ear, letting her lips brush against the shell of it.

Bog gave a slight shiver at that, before pausing. “Well…actually…”

“Hit me with your best shot.” Nothing could possibly embarrass her after all that she had been through in the past few weeks. 

Bog took a deep breath and gestured to her chest. “Why hide those?”

She stood corrected, she  _totally_  could still be horribly embarrassed after everything after all.  _“Uhhh…”_

Bog flinched when he saw her expression, his hand withdrawing from her as he tried to backpedal. “I mean, um, I just – uh –"

Marianne cut him off by grabbing his hand and bringing it to her front, letting it simply rest against her. Her eyes met his surprised gaze, and she smiled, soft and reassuring, even as her cheeks burned and her heartbeat began to pick up.

“I guess…” she said slowly, moving her hand on top of his and spreading his fingers so that his palm pressed over her heart, and Bog looked down, taking in what she was doing, how she was trying to reassure him, “…I guess it’s one of those things that can’t really be explained. They don’t  _have_  to be covered. They just…always have been. It’s a modesty thing. But they’re also…the skin there is…” Marianne shrugged, not sure how to explain. “It’s sensitive.”

Bog cocked a brow at her, and his hand began to move over her, soft and exploring, touching her with the same gentleness he had had when feeling her back. “How so?”

“Well…” Marianne rubbed at the back of her neck, feeling how warm it was. It was hard to concentrate, his touch was distracting her like crazy. “Remember that one time when you were molting? And I decided to help you? And we found out, y’know…” Marianne shrugged. “It’s…it’s kind of like that.”

Bog’s hand stilled.

She watched his face, knowing he was thinking back to that seriously  _delightful_ discovery of just how touch-sensitive he really was after a molt, saw his mind connecting that to her, and –

“… _Interesting.”_  Bog’s voice had a decidedly new tone to it, dark and low and with enough heat that it sent a slight shiver down her spine, and she bit her lip as he let his claws trail after it, barely skimming her skin. He suddenly paused and looked at her with wide eyes. “Wait…is it like that everywhere? All the time? How on earth do you not -?”

“Well, no, not everywhere, not all the time.” Marianne leaned into his palm, encouraging him to continue, which he readily did. “But…yeah, there’s some areas that are… _mmm_ …always sensitive, but it really – oooh,  _yes_ – depends on how we’re feeling, you know, if we’re already, um, excited or our senses are heightened, or, uh…but yeah, only some parts stay sensitive –  ** _Oh!”_**

“Am I hurting you?” Bog enquired anxiously, his hand drawing back away from where it had been trailing over her chest, and oh holy  _hell_ , the sensation of his claws gently scrapping over her breasts, even through her top, it had been  _so – !_

Marianne struggled to both breathe and reply.

“That,” she managed to get out, her voice a bit ragged, “is the opposite of hurting me.”

Bog looked as though he didn’t know what to make of that, his eyes flicking between where his claws had just been and her pink cheeks, seeing how her throat was hitching. He slowly lowered his hand, his expression watchful and wary, but there was a hint of something else, a slow start of something that spoke of intrigue, a curiosity that had a decidedly… _hungry_  edge to it.

And heaven help her, the sight of it seized Marianne with the desperate, burning desire to help him sate that hunger, satisfy that curiosity. She wanted to…she wanted…

Bog suddenly spoke, cutting through her increasingly muddled thoughts.

“Would you…?” Bog paused, looking frustrated, before he continued, voice low. “Would you like me to stop?”

He was so certain she would say yes, so used to not getting what he yearned for, and Marianne felt her heart contract.  _Oh, Bog, sweetie…_

“No,” Marianne said softly, and Bog looked up, eyes wide and raw with hopeful vulnerability. “But…I have a better idea.”

Oh god, she knew  _exactly_ what she wanted to do. She took a deep breath, dizzy with realization and certainty, her heart already beginning to race. There would be no coming back from this, for neither of them. But she wanted him to know…

_He called me irresistible._  No one had ever called her that. No one had ever accepted her without hesitation, differences and all, understood her so well…

_I want you to know everything about me. I want to know if you’d call the rest of me irresistible._

Her fingers moved of their own accord, going to the ties of the top. But Dawn had cleverly concealed them at the sides, making the garment mold to her form seamlessly. Marianne looked down, biting her lip in frustration. Her nails picked at the knots, fumbling but determined -

Bog hands grabbed hers, and his voice was full of shocked confusion. “Marianne – what – wait a moment,  _what are you doing?”_

_What does it look like?_  Marianne’s retort died on her lips as she looked at him and saw the honest bewilderment on his face. A sharp prickle of shame washed over her. She couldn’t just rush into this, this wasn’t just about her, she wasn’t the only one if danger of being forced outside of their comfort zone –

“Would you…” she paused, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat, “would you…let me…?”

Bog stared at her, desperately trying to understand, and Marianne huffed out a breath and looked down.  _This was never going to be easy anyway._  “I want to show you more.” She said softly, before glancing back up at him, eyes wide and pleading and timid. “Would you let me?”

Bog stared at her with wide eyes, and his swallow at that was practically a gulp. When he spoke, he sounded winded. “Marianne, you…you don’t have to –"

“I don’t,” Marianne nodded, and looked at him sternly even as her heart continued to thud away in her chest. “Remember? I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. I…I want to,” she murmured, tone softening. “If it you’re okay with it…I want to.”

Bog looked as though he seriously wondering if he was hallucinating. “I thought…” he muttered, dazed, “I thought you said it was something you do only with someone you trust –“  

“Yeah, I did.” Marianne let that sink in for a bit, and when the light of realization came into Bog’s eyes, she stroked a hand along the sharp line of his cheek. “Would you let me?” she asked once more, her voice a murmur, drowning a bit in the bright blue of his eyes. She was so scared, so nervous to take this next step, but she was even more scared of the chance he would say no, reject her…

Bog looked away before letting out a slow exhale. When his eyes returned to hers his expression was intent. “Only if you want to,” he murmured back, almost fiercely.

_Only if she wanted to._ Marianne nodded and let out a shaky breath.

She slid back on the bed, getting on her knees to properly get to all the ties. Concentrating on breathing as steadily as she could, she let her hands drift back to her top, the soft slide of the velvety material amplified by her nerves, and soon, all too soon, it was loose, ready to be shucked off as carelessly as you please.

Marianne glanced back at Bog, who had been watching her hands move over the garment, following each tug and curl of her fingers like they were weaving a spell, seeming almost dazed by what he was watching. Marianne felt her heart twist all over again, love for him and nerves curling down into her bones. He wouldn’t judge her, wouldn’t reject her, but  _oh,_  she was so nervous…

_Enough._  No more being held back by fear, no more being a prisoner of doubt. It was now or never.

_Okay, deep breath. C’mon, Tough Girl._

Trying not to lose her nerve, she exhaled slowly and let her top slide off of her shoulders, drop away from her inch by inch, until…she was completely bare in front of him.

Without really thinking, she crossed her arms in front of her, self-conscious. Her breasts had always been on the smaller side, though Bog probably wouldn’t care, but her skin was already flushing,  _pink as primroses_  she noticed absentmindedly, and she hunched over –

Bog’s hands gently touched her. “Love, it’s alright.”

Marianne huffed out a shaky breath. “I’m – I’m sorry, it’s just –"

“It’s alright,” Bog repeated, his voice soft. “I…I want to see you, Marianne.”

His tone was so earnest, so hesitant, and she flashed back to those earlier words.  _“It’s…something you only do with someone you trust.”_  She trusted him, she realized. That was never the question.  Body and soul, she trusted him. She wanted to show him that, honor that…

Her heartbeat thudding through her, Marianne slowly, hesitantly lowered her arms. Oh god, oh  _god,_  she was flushing so badly she was practically  _glowing_ , why was this so  _nerve-wracking?!_

_Because you’re naked in front of Bog._

He had wanted to see!

_You’re still naked in front of Bog._

Only her top was off!

_Half naked is still naked!_

“You’re all pink again…” Bog murmured, his eyes slowly trailing over her, taking her in.

“Uh…yeah…” Marianne muttered, shifting under his intense gaze. “It… it happens…”

She swallowed, still finding it hard to breathe, and simply tried to concentrate on Bog. And everything else seemed to fade as she watched him drink her in.  _The way he was looking at her…_

His eyes swept along the line of her arm, following the smooth line of her collarbone, and Marianne felt almost as if she could  _feel_  his gaze, brushing over her as it traced every curve and dip and swell, every inch of skin exposed. He paused at her breasts, and even though Marianne knew it was simply because goblin females didn’t have them, she couldn’t help it, she did gulp a bit then. His eyes went to her face, and they never looked more blue, more intense.

He reached for her, and she let herself be gathered to him, and her nerves were set ablaze as skin that had never felt such scaly roughness found out just what intoxicating sensations it had been missing. Marianne made a soft little noise in her throat as his hands stroked down her back, and she let her head drop to his shoulder, drowning in the sheer  _feel_ of him on her. It was both everything and nothing like she could have imagined…

Bog let his hands continue to travel up and down her spine, and she could tell he was also nervous, preferring for the moment to stick with somewhat familiar territory. He breathed out, a bit shallow, and then looked down at her. “So…you said this was sensitive?”

It was at that exact moment that Marianne felt her breasts brush against his chest, soft skin grazing prickly segmented scales. Her nipples pebbled almost immediately, and she hissed out a breath. Concerned, Bog went to move away, only for Marianne to clasp him to her, keeping him there.

“Yeah…” she said,  her voice a shade ragged. “Like I said, some areas more than others. Like these,” she gestured helplessly to her chest. “They’re…they can get pretty freaking sensitive.”

Bog leaned back, and Marianne almost whined at the sudden lack of contact, before she saw the look on his face. He looked…contemplative. Dangerously so. In fact, Marianne thought as she watched his brows lower and his mouth start to curl with a hint of a smirk, she would dare say he had never looked more dangerous, studying her with that  _look_ on his face, like a predator planning how it wanted to devour its prey. Marianne felt a dark and delicious thrill go through her.  _Oh…_

“Sensitive…” he murmured, drawing out the word, and she bit back a hum at the soft roughness of it, his accent making her want to curl up in his voice. “I think I may have to test that.”

Marianne went faint and sagged a bit in his arms. Before she could even work on collecting herself, Bog was moving, arranging both of their bodies so that she could recline in his arms comfortably and he could have unrestricted access to her, throat and chest and torso completely bared under blue eyes that never once stopped taking her in.  

Marianne looked at him and raised an eyebrow, feeling her heart stutter. “I’m…I’m gonna regret telling you that, aren’t I?” she asked, a bit breathless.

“Mmmm…that depends on what you define  _regret_  as,” Bog responded, a bit of a smile to his voice, before inclining his face toward the slender column of her neck. Marianne felt her heart give a jolt, and heaven help her, she couldn’t tell if it was nerves or need.  _Oh **god.**_

His mouth brushed against the hollow of her throat before moving along the smooth line of it. Marianne felt him breathe her in, and her response was immediate, pulsing through her unabashedly. Breathing as evenly as she could, she attempted to subtly press her thighs together, trying to ease the hot ache betwixt them. She clasped her hands at his shoulders, her grip not hard but still needing something to hold onto, some kind of control.  

Bog’s free hand – god, his hands were so  _large,_  she had noticed before of course, but now it was hitting her all over again, the one around her waist nearly spanned the whole thing comfortably, rough against the pale, never-been-touched skin,  _why was she noticing it all over again_  – stroked over the clenched knuckles of her hand comfortingly, before it slowly slid down to…

The first touch, hesitant as it was, still had her shivering, the sensation and her nerves overwhelming her. Bog made a soothing noise, his face still tucked against her neck, even as his hand continued to stroke, getting familiar with new territory, his palm warm and delightfully rough against the soft, milky skin.  _Oh **god,** she had thought the feel of him on her back was amazing, but **this**_  –

He was just… _feeling_  her, touching her, and Marianne knew that he truly  _was_  curious, honestly  _was_  wondering just  _what_  it was that was making her react in such a way. But for all his old rumored impetuousness, he was being… _achingly_  thorough now with her, tender to the point of teasing…

With each rasp of rough knuckles and drag of his palm against downy skin, each trailing skim of claws on plush softness, Marianne felt herself unravel, her heart thudding away like mad, and she didn’t think when she sank back in his arms, losing herself to what he was giving her. Her breath was shallow and increasingly rapid, and the sudden scraping of his claws had her jolting. Bog went to withdraw his hand, worry coming back, before she made a noise, one that needed no words to be pleading.  _Please don’t stop._

And after a moment heavy with shock and want, his touch returned, and she nearly moaned out when she felt his thumb, large and rough and scaly and wonderful, dragging over her.  _Oh, **yes…**_

His own breathing was deepening with hers, as if her pleasure was stoking his own, and Marianne writhed, shameless and encouraging. She was peaking under his touch, the very texture of him setting her senses blazing, and  _oh_ , her breasts had always been sensitive, she had known that, but  _god_ , this was almost embarrassing, that he could undo her so much with only a few –  _amazing wonderful perfect_ – deft touches –

But then he gave a soft, almost inquisitive tug at her nipple and Marianne felt such a shock of hot, liquid pleasure it was almost like lightening -    

Her heels dug into the moss,  _hard_ , while her hands clutched at his shoulders as she arched back, somewhere between breathlessness and heaving, desperate gasps. Her eyes closed in rapture, overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation, giving him free reign to all of her, every desperate inch of her skin –

Bog groaned against her, breath hot on her increasingly dewy skin, his caresses getting harder, hungrier. Marianne’s breath caught in her throat, her teeth grinding, wracked with shudders, and oh, oh  _god_ , how could anything be better than  _this_ -?

“Is – is this good?” Bog got out, his voice rough and his eyes so achingly earnest. “Is this – is this all I can – is there more I can do?”

“You –  _ah_  – want –  _mph_  – to?” Marianne asked between pants.

_“Yes_ ,” and his voice was so heartbreakingly raw with honesty, so ragged with want, “anything – anything that makes you – that lets you – I want to give you  _everything.”_

_Oh, baby, you already have._  Yet Marianne suddenly recalled something, something other Fairy girls had whispered about, but she still paused, shy. “Do…do you think…do you think you, ah, could…”

“Marianne, darling,  _tell me.”_

Still not really sure how to say it, bashful all over again, Marianne hesitantly touched her lips, her tongue licking at them nervously, and then slowly moved her hand down to one of her breasts, flushing even more.  _Please…_

Thankfully, Bog was quick to the uptake, pressing a kiss to her sternum before brushing a softer, hesitant one to one pale, soft mound, his lips rough against skin that was as delicate and velvety as petals…

She let out a thready, almost miserable little moan of ecstasy when his tongue flicked against her, shuddering fiercely as it dragged a hungry path down the sensitive skin, the hot, wet soft roughness of it making her arch in his arms, and oh,  _oh,_  it felt so unbearably  _wonderful_ , it was almost  _torture_  –

A slow, gentle scrapping drag of teeth had her crying out, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed, only to have Bog tug it away.

“No, don’”, he muttered, his voice thick and rough and desperate, breath hot against her flesh. “Ah want ta’ – Ah need ta’ hear ye.”

Marianne could barely breathe, let alone speak, but somehow she managed a laugh. “You –  _ah_ – do? Y-you like – _unf_ – that?”

_“Gods yes,”_  he moaned out, and the sound of his voice alone had Marianne feeling a flash of pleasure, flooding her with heat. He sounded almost miserable with desire, lust thickening his accent to an insane degree.  _“_ Ye sound sae – hearin’ ye jist – _gods, Marianne, knowin’ Ah’m makin’ ye dae tha’ -"_

Emotion and want seemed to overwhelm him, and he went back to kissing her, mouthing his desperate way along the curve of one breast, licking a hot path from one to the other, sucking and nipping and ravishing every inch of the plaint flesh he could get, his moans muffled against her skin.

After such pleas, how could Marianne refuse?

She desperately clawed her fingers up his back, raking them up and down between his wings, making him shudder fiercely against her. She dug her fingers into his scalp, gripping him there as though there were any danger of him leaving. Kissing him was glorious and one of her favorite things ever, but it did prevent moaning out encouragement. But now she shamelessly egged him on, wanton and eager, gasping and mewling and twisting under his touch, his wonderfully hungry mouth. Marianne’s voice nearly cracked under her litany of desire.  _“Oh yes, yes yes yes, oh baby **please,**  just like that, oh  **yessss,**  like  **t-that,**  oh  **GOD** , oh please, oh Bog  **please-"**_

Bog let out a sound almost like a purr, and Marianne dazedly thought she had never heard anything so achingly sexy. One set of claws dragged down her spine while his other hand stroked and rubbed at her right breast, his touch making her almost wail, and his voice was ragged when he spoke.  _“Gods, Marianne, ye’re sae bludy perfect–"_

She moaned out his name, like she always did when she was back at her Kingdom and thinking about him, alone and craving him, desperate for his touch and only having her own hands to sate her fire.  _“Bog -!”_

Hearing his name spoken in such a way pushed Bog over whatever vestige of control he had. He let out a fierce growl before biting at her breast, snarling around his mouthful. It was a light bite compared to what he could truly inflict, but Marianne  _gasped_  at it, pain and pleasure hitting her in a hard, intoxicating punch.

Yet it was the slight scrap of one of his fangs on her nipple, his tongue laving after it, that sent Marianne into a such spiral of wild pleasure that she fell to the bed, taking him with her.

She didn’t think when she clamped her thighs around him and tugged him down into a fierce, smothering kiss, certainly wasn’t thinking as she shamelessly grinded against him. She moaned into his mouth, arching against him, wanting every bit of him on her, her skin against his scales, that intoxicating friction –

Bog rocked down against her, biting into her kiss and swallowing her moan. Marianne’s eyes rolled back into her head as his hips rolled  _hard_  against hers, matching her for each movement, ragged breaths echoing her own as they parted for air.  

His hands dragged down her sides, claws marking her, and Marianne whined with want before pulling him back into another hungry kiss, greedy and exquisite. Tongues entwined and stroked and tasted, both sets of teeth bit and tugged in a demand for more. Marianne was in such a paroxysm of lust, want flooding her, hot and moist and needy, she wanted  _everything_ , oh  _god_ , she couldn’t believe it, this was beyond  _anything_  she could have ever –

Bog moaned, shuddering and slow, at the undulating movements of her hips. He continued the aching rhythm, rolling against her while latching onto her throat with his mouth, trailing desperate, biting kisses there that burned at her skin, he set her so on fire-  

“Are ye –“ Bog groaned as her hips gave a particularly demanding rock, “ – this isn’t –  _argh_  – crossin’ th’ line, is it -?”

_“Fuck the line,”_  Marianne moaned without thinking, her hands groping at him.

Bog stared at her in shock, at this Fairy Princess with her body arching under his, this soft butterfly beauty with her filthy mouth, before giving a ravenous snarl and seizing her in a vicious kiss, nearly crushing her into the moss with his desire. Marianne’s moan was equal parts delirious and exultant.  _Fuck it indeed._  She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him, each of them losing themselves in pure decadent sensation.

It was strange, Marianne reflected through a haze of desire. She had never really thought about just how  _different_  their anatomies were. Oh, she  _had_ , but…she hadn’t really considered what the  _real_  implications were, what it would mean for them in terms of… _this_.

Even as it made her heart race and her mouth go dry and her wings go all fluttery, Marianne knew  _it_  would happen, sooner or later. So far with their make-outs, passion and instinct had guided them, with no truly embarrassing missteps. But now, as her head lolled back, nearly drunk with pleasure, shamelessly letting herself grind against him, his claws gripping her there as he panted at each rock of her hips…

The first time she had done this, legs wrapped around him and her core burning for any kind of relief, she had had no way of knowing if it was at all pleasurable for him, had merely been lost to her own desires. She probably shouldn’t have made such assumptions, but gripped as she was in a feverish state of lust –

But then he had inhaled at the roll of her body against his, a rasp of shock and pleasure –

And now he clutched at her hip, alternating between helpless pants and deep throated, groaning growls, grinding  _hard_  against the fiery heat of her pelvis with his own, any trepidation drowned out by sheer  _want._

In the midst of the onslaught of blinding arousal, Marianne was comforted to know that they were… _compatible_. These past few weeks had been one of discovery and exploration for the both of them, an adventure –

Marianne felt a sudden giggle burble up in the midst of her moans. Well, adventures  _were_  what they did best.

_“Wha’ is it?”_  Bog managed to get out, his already furrowed features getting a twist of unease to them, the fear that he was doing something wrong returning.

Marianne couldn’t stop her laughter, and let her fingers drag down between his wings, and he shuddered hard, arching into her touch. “Nothing,” she gasped, breathless from laughter and desire. “Just –just happy.” She reached up a hand to cradle one sharp cheek, and he leaned into her touch, his breath gusting hotly against her palm.

She gazed up at him, and wanted to drown in his eyes, wanted so desperately to be lost in him.  _“You make me so happy,”_  she murmured before she could stop herself, and her tone was so frankly adoring she almost shivered. So exposed, so vulnerable, and she was so happy about it, so happy that she was at his mercy, that she could trust him so…

Bog stared at her, frozen at such an admission, before he huffed out a laugh, and Marianne couldn’t tell whether it was the burn of desire or happiness that made his eyes so bright.  _“Ye’re incredible,”_  he muttered, running a hand through her hair before leaning down to her. Marianne rose up to him, and they met halfway, and their kiss wasn’t frantic or rushed, but tender and true, tasting and savoring the sweet, almost painful wonder of the moment, of each other.  

Marianne let her body give one last slow roll against his, making him sigh into her mouth, before she sank back against the bed, the moss damp and spongy beneath her back. He settled down beside her, his arms sliding around her, holding her to him, a comfort to her and a reassurance to him. The rampant burn of before had simmered down into the warmth of an afterglow, and Marianne almost hummed from how wonderful she felt, how happy and blissful she was next to him.  _Screw the hot spring, this was where it was at…_

“Ye were right,” Bog muttered into her hair, claws softly dragging down between her breasts.

Marianne drowsily raised an eyebrow at him. “About what?”  

“Clothing  _is_  fun.” The rumble in his voice, low and utterly pleased, had her shaking with suppressed laughter.  _What a dork_. She poked his side, and he seized her hand and gave a kiss to it, lips brushing over her knuckles.

Marianne suddenly remembered something and sat up, looking around. “Oh, damn.”

Bog looked up, concerned. “What?”

“My top.” Marianne spotted it by the edge of the bed and snatched it up, groaning. It was still in one piece, but creased and wrinkled, the petals even darker after getting crushed. “Guess it got in the way. Dawn’s gonna kill me.” She groaned as another thought occurred to her. “And I don’t have any other tops here, that was it –"

“How is that a problem?” Bog asked, stretching out on the bed, and oh, his smile just spelled  _trouble._

She swatted at him. “You know, Dawn thinks you’re this total pure shy little flower when it comes to this stuff, all innocent and nerdy –"

“Most of my subjects are under the impression that as a Fairy you’re as fragile as spider silk,” Bog retorted.

Marianne had to laugh. “We sure showed them, huh?”

Bog’s chuckle made her feel all warm and fluttery, and she let herself go back to him, luxuriating in how lovely he felt on her skin. She looked down at her chest and smirked as she saw just how marked up she was – another boon about clothes, they would totally hide these love bites from her father.

Bog’s hands stroked down her back, and she wriggled further into his embrace before softly saying “…Thank you. For this. I never thought…”  _I never thought I could trust someone so much, that I could ever trust someone again._

Bog’s hand wound through her locks, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I should be thanking you.” Marianne rolled her eyes, and he gave her gentle shake. “I’m serious, Tough Girl. I know that…that wasn’t easy for you. I’m…”  _I’m honored that you trusted me, that you think I’m worthy of such a thing._  

Marianne’s sigh was content and heartfelt and full of feeling. God, she had been so right – nothing would be the same after what they had shared.  _I love him so much._  “So…” she said, drawing out the word playfully. “I have to ask…was this as good as the first time? With my back?” She grinned, bashful and mischievous. “Was it equally  _irresistible_?”

Bog groaned. “Gods, of course you would remember that –"

“No one’s ever called me that before,” she murmured, leaning away from him to look him in the eye, her confession soft and just for him.

_“You are,”_  he said, and the sheer tenderness in his beautiful eyes made her heart ache with a sweet pain.

“So are you.” Bog snorted at that, rolling his eyes, and Marianne tugged at his chin. “I’m serious, you are –"

He grunted, pulling away from her. “It’s not nice to tease, Marianne –"

She could tell he meant to say the words lightly, but that vast swath of insecurity was still there, always lurking out of sight. She knit her hands around his neck and tugged him down to her, speaking into his ear.

_“You’re perfect_ ,” she murmured, and grinned as she could feel him begin to blush. “You make me feel so damn amazing, Bog. No one can make me feel like that but you.” She leaned back and gave him a big, smacking kiss before looking at him sternly. “So no more trying to deny it.”

Bog sighed exaggeratedly but she could tell he was still pleased. “You’re a bossy one, you are –"

Marianne hummed in agreement and then stretched back out on the bed, pulling him down next to her. He curled his body around hers, and Marianne absentmindedly noticed that dusk had stolen over the sky while they had been… _occupied._  Her body was still humming with the glorious echo of the pleasure he had brought her to, her core still giving out little pulses of heat…

She sighed happily. “Obvious thing to say, but…that was pretty freaking incredible.”

Bog gave a dark chuckle. “You’re not alone in that opinion, Tough Girl.” Claws stroked down her spine, and she shivered pleasurably. “Just as long as you got what you needed.” 

That made Marianne recall her earlier thoughts, muddled with desires as they were. “You would tell me, right?” she murmured, folding her arms against his chest and letting her chin rest on them, gazing at him. “That wasn’t just about me, you know. If there was something  _I_  could do, something that would… _really_  make it good for you, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Bog shrugged a shoulder, looking deliciously rumpled and worn out, at least as rumpled as someone as spiky as him could get. “Just being with you is –“

She poked him. “I’m serious, Bog. I…I want to make this good for you too.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You think that  _wasn’t?”_

She grinned, a mix of bashful and smug. “Okay, yeah, it  _obviously_  was, but…” She shrugged at him. “I just want you to know you could tell me.”

Bog rolled his eyes but she could tell there was no real annoyance there. “ _If_  I think of something that’s even better than that -  _which I highly doubt,”_  he added empathetically, “I will tell you. But this…” he sighed, heartfelt and soft and disbelieving. “I would have  _never_ thought this was possible…”

Marianne heart gave a twist at his words, knowing exactly what he meant, how they both hadn’t let themselves wish for something like this after getting so horribly hurt…

And now here they were,  _together,_  vulnerable hearts and bared souls out in the open, letting skin and exoskeleton catch on one another, trust and lust melding into one. His rough claws tenderly stroking her breast, her soft fingers possessively raking down his spine…

_His spine…_

Inspiration seized her, and Marianne felt an absolute wicked surge of triumph and anticipation. She rolled off of him and gave raised a lofty brow at him. “You know…you may not have to tell me after all.”

Bog raised a brow at her, amused. “Oh really?”

She smiled at him, slow and dangerous, her eyes glowing in the half-light. “Turn on your stomach.”

“What - _why -?”_

“Trust me, Bog.”

He sighed but did as she said. “You really shouldn’t try to order a King around –"

“Kings shouldn’t backchat future Queens,” Marianne murmured, leaning down to his spine, letting her hands trail up and down between his wings, blunt nails scraping over him, and he shivered deliciously under her touch. She dusted a few small kisses at the base of one wing, sending them all into twitchy little spasms. Bog gave a soft rumble at that, and she smiled before continuing, her tone faintly smug. “And you like it.”

Bog let out a slight laugh. “You sound awfully confident about thaaaaAAAAAA  _– **gods**. Mariaaa –" _ His voice completely broke, his claws sinking into the moss as Marianne slowly, torturously licked up his spine, letting her tongue drag over the segmented scales. He tasted almost musty, but also wild and  _wow…_

“I’m sorry, what was that?” She asked considerately before blowing a soft little gust of cool air over the damp path. Bog let out an absolutely pathetic whine that she was absolutely gonna have him make again. His claws sliced through the moss to the wood base beneath it as he grabbed at the blankets, and Marianne grinned. “You were saying I sounded awfully confident?” She let her mouth slide over the base of one of his wings and curled her tongue around it, suckling it a bit before giving a little nip there with her teeth.

Bog exploded into action, grabbing her and slamming her down into the moss, his snarl utterly savage. Marianne was nearly helpless with laughter and desire, alternatively giggling and gasping as he bit and kissed his ravenous way from her lips to her jaw to her neck to her chest, moaning as he took her in his mouth, fangs and tongue leaving her breathless and arching -  

Her pants could to stay on, that was another line to cross for another time, but for now…

This was gonna be an adventure of a night.


	2. Bonus Chapter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bonus followup drabble! Bog sees Marianne in her nightgown. Smitten curiosity ensues.

There was tired, and then there was exhausted. Marianne had managed to pass each of them and was firmly in the midst of a fatigue that weighed so heavily on her it felt like her limbs were mired in thick, sludgy mud. She yawned hugely, feeling her jaw click, and her eyelids drooped like wilted petals. It had been, she reflected drowsily, a  _very_  long day. 

Early meeting with the Fairy Council, then a visit to the elders of the Elf Village to discuss formally setting up a council of their own, or at least electing a representative that would attend future meetings of the Fairy Council. Then a lunch with Dawn that had brought her update with every minute little detail in her sister’s life, sneak in a quick training session, get some fittings for some new formal gowns, write several letters to other neighboring kingdoms to propose revisions to their diplomatic cornerstones –

“The letters were the worst,” she called to Bog as she unlaced her braces, fingers clumsy with exhaustion as they picked at the knots. “Seriously, I almost fell headfirst into the inkwell, I was so bored. I’ve never been a writing proposals kind of girl, I do so much better when everything is face to face - ”

“It’s a skill all rulers need to develop,” he returned, and she heard him shift back the blankets on the bed. “Or they bloody well should. A necessary bore, as it were. And since I know you would never delegate such a task –"

Marianne sighed, annoyed. “Neither would you!”

“Aye, but at least I delegate  _some_  things.” She heard him groan and crack his neck before continuing. “There’s no shame in –"

“Yeah, yeah, I know, delegating isn’t a sign of a weak ruler, it’s a mark of an efficient one.” She briefly considered telling him he sounded like her father, but decided she was too tired for the outburst that would surely follow at that. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have a point. There really wasn’t any shame in having others help, in sharing one’s burden…

Marianne’s shoulders sunk. She understood that, she really did, it was just…she couldn’t help herself! She wanted to know  _everything_ , see to everything personally, make sure that all tasks were getting accomplished in the manner she wished them to be.  _Hovering_ , whispered a little voice that sounded a lot like Dawn.

Marianne grunted as she kicked off her boots. It wasn’t hovering when it was  _her_ Kingdom,  _her_  plans.

…Was it? God, how could she just step back?

She sighed, and focused on her top, picking at the ties, once again thankful to Griselda for having the ingenious idea to convert one of the alcoves in her son’s room into a makeshift boudoir. Large dark petals from a flower Marianne couldn’t place now hung in front of the opening as curtains, and a fair sized looking-glass was perched on top of the elaborately carved writing desk in a rough attempt at a vanity.

Bog had rolled his eyes at the mirror but otherwise hadn’t made a single complaint about having a part of his quarters undergo such a transformation. Now that he was beginning to truly understand the concept of clothing - and the need of privacy when disrobing said clothing - he was more than willing to let Marianne do what was needed to make her feel comfortable.

Maybe one far off day, changing in  _front_  of him would easily fall under what she found comfortable…

Marianne shrugged off her top and wriggled out of her pants, her cheeks tingling. She would get there. They both would, this wasn’t just about her. They had been crossing more and more Points Of No Returns when it came to… _exposing_  themselves in front of the other, literally and metaphorically.  But there still remained some things that made both of them flutter and twitch with nerves. Loosening or even losing her tunic in moments of passion was one thing; casually undressing herself under his gaze was something else entirely.  _Intimate on a whole other level._

Marianne shook her head. Enough worrying. All she wanted to do now was to change out of the clothes she had had on all day, strip away some of the stress from herself, and  _relax_. That is, if she could find a nightgown. Normally she had no problem sleeping in her clothes, but after a day like today –

Marianne grinned as she rummaged through the bundle Dawn had replenished with fresh toiletries and clean clothes. “Y’know, writing those letters sucks, but…got to admit, I don’t think it would matter to some of those officials if I wrote or talked about considering a new route for diplomacy.”

She could hear the grin in Bog’s voice. “And why’s that, Tough Girl?”

Marianne rolled her eyes, digging her arm into the bundle. She knew there had to be  _something_  there she could use. “They are  _such_  windbags, I swear. So stuck in the past, clinging to old glory days and prejudices. I always tried to claim a headache whenever Dad had them over.”

Bog snorted and Marianne let out a chuckle as well before she felt something soft and delicate. She quickly seized it and triumphantly pulled out a nightgown.  _Ha, I win_.  She quickly tugged it on, the soft slide of the silky petals brushing over her skin with gentle coolness. She suddenly thought of something. “Hey, you’ve had to deal with those Elders of the Forest. I know how never-endingly cheerful  _they_  can be –"

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Marianne –"

“But just  _imagine_  if they were all miserable, cranky jerks.” Marianne smoothed her hands over her gown and peered into the mirror. She was pale with exhaustion and her eyes were starting to get red, but other than that, she looked relatively okay. “Tell me, what’s a diplomatic way of saying  _‘I understand where you’re coming from and that I need to listen to your opinion, but there’s also the fact that you’re a prejudiced, decrepit old drone whose only redeeming feature is that when you talk, you’re so dull that you send everyone to sleep so we don’t have to listen to you’_?”

Bog gave a soft growl of a laugh, sleepiness tingeing it. “I find an implication of decapitation works just fine.”

Marianne snorted. “There is that.” She yawned and ruffled her hair.  _Right, time for bed._  She stretched and pushed aside the curtains. “Honestly, with these guys, it’s a tempta-"

 _“What is THAT?!”_  Bog bolted upright, any trace of tiredness gone. Wide blue eyes raked over her from head to toe, his mouth going a bit slack when his gaze got to her legs.

Marianne blinked. “Wha -?  _Oh!_  Oh yeah, my…” She looked down at her nightgown. It was her favorite, a soft little slip crafted from white morning glory petals that were veined with a soft pink, worn so thin it was silky and sheer, just shy of fragile. “Uh, yeah, fairies usually change into different garments to sleep. We don’t have to, but…y’know, they’re usually more comfortable than what we wear during the day.”  She fiddled with her hair and shrugged a shoulder. “This is just my nightgown. Nightgown, Bog. Bog, Nightgown. Now you know each other.”

She wasn’t too sure Bog had registered her tired attempt at levity, or even heard her at all. He seemed incredibly preoccupied with taking in as much as he could, eyes flicking to the exposed skin of her chest, the neckline of the slip scooping much lower than her usual high collars did. Marianne felt herself begin to flush under such rapt scrutiny, and rubbed at her ankle with her foot. Looking down, she was suddenly struck by just how short the hem of the garment really was.  _Huh, might have thought of this when you were pulling it on -_

She sighed and gave a mental  _To Hell With It_  before crossing to the bed. Bog leaned forward to watch her approach, fascinated. “Your legs – they’re –"

“Yeah, I don’t wear pants to bed,” Marianne said, her footsteps nearly dragging. Oh, she was so  _sleepy._  “Or is this another exoskeleton thing again? Did you –" she yawned hugely before continuing, “-did you think they were my bare legs?” She ran a hand through her hair and paused before grinning a bit. “Actually, that would be kind of cool –"

“No, I figured they were part of your clothing,” Bog said, eyes still not done traveling over every inch of her. They were definitely lingering over her legs, and Marianne felt her cheeks begin to tingle all over again, biting her lip to stop a silly little grin from blooming. Her legs were one of the few things she was proud of about her appearance, long and strong and powerful, and the fact that there was a decidedly… _enraptured_  glint to Bog’s gaze as he looked at them…

“So…I take it that you like it?” Marianne teased gently, and Bog looked up at her, face flushing as he seemed to realize just how much he was staring. Marianne gave him playful if sleepy grin. “The nightgown or the bare legs, which ever you prefer.”

His flush deepened. “Um, I – well, you’re just – it’s so –“ He gestured with a hand ineffectually, and his eyes darted once more to her legs, tracing from where the gown stopped right above her knees and following the curves of her calves. The word seemed to break from him, fervent and wondering. “ _Different.”_

Marianne was tempted to laugh, and she pulled back the mossy blankets on her side of the bed before raising a brow at him. “Different Good or Different Bad?”

“Different Go –“ Bog broke off as he watched her legs as she climbed in, their long lean lines stretching and folding, the hem of her nightgown riding up a bit. Marianne could have sworn he gave a slight gulp before continuing. “…Good. Different Good. Always. With you, um, I mean. It’s always going to be, uh, that…”

Marianne did laugh then, gentle and warm and full of sleepy affection. “You’re such a dork,” she murmured, grabbing his chin to pull his face closer so she could give one sharp cheek a smooch. She yawned – oh god, she _had_ to sleep soon, her eyes were about to roll back into her head – and snuggled down into the moss.  _Come at me, slumber._

Bog, however, now seemed wide-awake, his sheer curiosity giving him new alertness. There was a whisper of the tease of claws over her skin before Marianne felt his palm brush along her waist, petting the material there. “It  _is_  softer –“ he murmured. “So all fairies wear things like this to bed?”

“Well, the girls do,” Marianne mumbled, her mouth smushed against the moss. She was practically drooling already. “Although I guess there’s not much of a difference between a nightshirt and a nightgown –"

“Gods, I’ve never realized your legs were so  _long_  –"

Marianne let out a decidedly un-ladylike snort. Was he even listening to her? He should be, he was the one keeping her awake. “Yeah, well…I don’t wear dresses all that often anymore, and even then fairies wear some kind of thing beneath ‘em. But you’ll –“ she gave a huge, shuddery yawn, “- you’ll get used to it.”

Bog let out a slight laugh, and Marianne felt his hands travel down, closer and closer to her hem. “Like I would ever get used to you.” One large, rough palm gently passed over her thigh, almost caressing. “Or  _this.”_

She wasn’t blushing, she was too tired to blush, way too sleepy for any of this. “You really like my legs like this, huh?” She teased, hoping her flush wouldn’t travel down her body as his hands explored her. As long as he didn’t get too curious and lift the hem – nah, he wouldn’t. He was still so wary of clothing, fumbling with ties and biting his lip apologetically when his claws sliced something by accident.  _A gentleman and a dork. And all mine…_

 _“Yes,”_  and  _oh_ , the sheer sincerity to his voice. “I – that’s to say, um, I like them no matter what, but like  _this_ …they’re…they’re so…” There was a rattle as he shrugged hesitantly. “…Pretty?”

Marianne rolled over and cocked a brow at him. “Pretty?”

Bog looked unsure, hunching a bit. There was a familiar expression of uncertainty creeping over his features, fear that he’d gone too far, visible even in the dim light of the room. “Um, yes?”

Marianne pondered over that. She had never thought of her legs as… _huh_. She stretched out a foot and tilted her head, considering the extended limb. She suddenly recalled something her mother used to say.  _“Love is learning to see yourself with new eyes.”_

Marianne smirked.  _Might have been onto something there, Mom._  “Pretty…” she tested the word out, and Bog’s eyes looked away from where they had been traveling along the curve of her calf. She flexed her foot.  _Pretty and powerful._  “Yeah, okay.”

Bog relaxed out of his hunch. “Okay?”

She nodded and smiled at him, soft and sleepy. “Okay.” She mustered enough energy to raise herself up to give him a soft kiss and nuzzle. He responded with the same tender gentleness that always made her heart twist a bit, a sensation that only increased as she gazed up into beautiful, almost crystalline blue.  _God, how are you even real?_  “They are too.”

Bog’s brow scrunched. “They what?”

“Your eyes,” she answered, and gave him one more light kiss before settling back down into her little mossy haven. “They’re pretty too.”

She felt him fumble with that, flailing with how to respond, and she grinned once more before she closed her eyes and patted the patch of moss next to her. “C’mon, it’s late.” 

He readily lay down next to her, gathering her pliant form in his arms. Marianne sighed with contentment, snuggling up to him. She could feel the scratch and prickle of his scales through the sheer material of her gown. She might wake up with it a little torn, but like hell she wasn’t gonna snuggle with her –

Bog shifted. “This is… _looser_  than your other things. That’s part of the, uh, comfort thing?”

Marianne nodded drowsily, fading more and more. “Uh-huh.”

“And you don’t have to lace yourself into anything? No ties or knots?”

She was _so_  sleepy. “Nu-uh.” 

“You know, I never asked, but – how  _do_  you dress with your wings? With this, it…d’you pull it over your head? I know with your top you have to – “

“Bog?”

“Aye?”

“I’m really tired.”

“ _Oh!_  Um, right. Sorry.”

She yawned and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. “S’okay.”

Silence crept over the room, and Marianne let herself be lulled further and further by gentle motion of him breathing beneath her, the soft rise and fall of his chest.  _Mmmm,_  she was so  _comfortable_ …so  _cozy_ … _so_ –

“Are Fairy dresses like that? Because if you ever wanted to wear one –“

Marianne sighed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, what with Bog discovering the joys of boobs and legs, I've had some people ask me if he's a fan of one over the other. But Bog isn't necessarily *into* breasts or legs - he's into Marianne. Like, he's not really digging those things by themselves, but since they're a part of Marianne…
> 
> Everything is a delightful discovery. God, Bog is *such* a teenager.


End file.
